


Righteous Revenge

by Emanon_Pen



Category: Original Work
Genre: Emasculation, F/F, F/M, M/M, Murder, Other, Pedophilia, Revenge, Semi-Automatic Assault Weapons, Semi-Automatic Handguns, Torture, enhanced interrogation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 73,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23654422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emanon_Pen/pseuds/Emanon_Pen
Summary: Story of one woman's revenge against a world wide organization of very unseemly characters.
Relationships: Original Female Character(s) / Original Female Character(s), Original Underage Character(s), original male character(s) - Relationship
Kudos: 6





	1. Wednesday, March 20, 2019 – 249 West End Avenue, New York, New York

**Author's Note:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen, 2020. All Rights Reserved.
> 
> The stories on this website are works of fiction. Any characters resemblance to persons living or dead is purely and entirely coincidental. Any actions taken by the characters or the portrait of such actions never occurred and if they mimic any form of reality, it is purely and entirely coincidental.
> 
> These stories contain explicit descriptions of sexual activity and may be perceived by some as being pornographic. If you feel that literary erotica is pornographic, then do not continue surfing this website or begin reading any of the stories posted here. If you inadvertently or with willful intent download a story to your computer or receive it as an e-mail attachment, then you should DELETE IT NOW AND LEAVE THE WEBSITE. The author assumes no responsibility if a minor downloads this story, is caught, and prosecuted by his parents or the federal, state, and/or local government.
> 
> This copyrighted material may not be freely distributed onto any website or newsgroup without the express written consent of the author. 
> 
> Commercial websites that post this copyrighted material without the express written consent of the author and payment of royalties to the author will be prosecuted to the full intent of the law.
> 
> You may download this story for personal use. You may make no changes to the story and the copyright statement must not be removed. The author grants no other permissions to you or your successors.
> 
> Author’s additional note: I do not condone or accept the idea of sexual relations between adults and children, period.

Stephen Stewart Simmons, _Triple S_ for short, sat behind his custom made Dalbergia wood desk rummaging through stacks of incoming responses to Internet advertisements seeking new, fresh, boys, girls, and teens for his modeling and talent agency. At thirty-six years of age, _Triple S_ had worked for one major talent agency after graduating college with a Fine Arts degree. While he worked, he completed a Master of Fine Arts concentrating in theater and acting. He attended one of the preeminent graduate schools for drama at Yale University. As much as he tried, he never caught the eye of a talent scout or stood out at an open audition. To back up his diminished acting career, he quietly studied business and attained a MBA from the Stern School of Business. What his employers recognized in him was an amazing eye for talent. Especially talent in children starting at a very young age. _Triple S_ decided the day before his twenty-sixth birthday to terminate his employment so he could hang out his own shingle. It was a no brainer when he created the corporation and named it Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency.

Ten years later, he was still a one man shop. It was a conscious decision on his part to remain extremely small. Casting companies were constantly knocking at his door. Over the years, he had placed several of his actors into major movies and hit television shows. Stephen could have increased the size of his business by adding talent agents, casting agent, sales personnel, back office personnel, and opened offices in Los Angeles, London, Paris, and wherever else he wanted. At one point, he wanted to grow the business to the point where he would become the largest modeling and talent agency in the world. Then something happened that changed his mind.

It was the eleven days before the end of March when Michelle Cooper responded to an advertisement by sending in a resume and four head shots of her twins. Constance and Charles Cooper were fraternal twins. They were seven years old. He responded by asking them to come to the city. When they accepted he made arrangements to have a clear calendar. Both of them stopped Stephen’s heart when they entered his office. Angelina Corsi who was his only employee agreed that both children were potential stars. They also caused his nine-and-a-half inch cock to twitch and grow in his suit pants. Their mother was quite a looker for a woman that carried and birthed twins.

Per protocol, the twins entered his office without their mother. “The reason you are here without your mom is to help you be yourselves. We are going to talk and roleplay.” He pointed at the girl and said, “Introduce yourself and tell me what you do for fun.”

The petite blue eyed blonde stood, pressed her hands on her thighs, looked into Stephen’s eyes, and said, “Hi. My name is Constance Cooper. I am seven years old. I like to swim, play softball, and play at being a runway model.”

Stephen made cryptic notes as she spoke. When she was done, he simply said, “Please sit.” He then pointed to the young boy.

Charles Cooper stood and said, “My name is Charles Cooper. I am seven years old. I like to play baseball and listen to music. I want to become an actor.”

Stephen added to his notes before saying, “Have either of you performed in a play? In a movie? Or anything theatrical?”

The children looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and together said, “No. But, we’ve modelled clothing for a Bloomingdale’s catalog.”

“Constance,” said Stephen, “please stand and show me how you would interpret a tree bending and reacting to the wind.”

The young girl stood, placed her arms out to her side, and began to rock as if the wind was blowing from her right side. She did this for a couple of minutes before she stopped.

“Show me what would happen if the wind blew the tree over,” said Stephen.

It did not take the child long for her to wave her arms and body as if she was being assaulted by the wind. Then as if she knew when her roots lost their hold on the earth, the girl fell to the floor while keeping her body straight. For a moment, Stephen thought the girl would hurt herself, but to his surprise and amazement she broke her fall with her right hand and arm. _Triple S_ could not contain his amazement as he stood and applauded her roleplay. What he forgot was his tented suit pants.

Charles reacted first with a simple, “WOW!!!”

Stephen reacted by quickly sitting down when he saw him point at his crotch. He did not blush or react in the negative. He smiled and said, “Your turn Charles. I want you to show me how you would react if another bigger boy punched you in the stomach and then kicked you in the face.”

Constance was already sitting down. The boy stood, turned sideways to Stephen, and with the same physical ability as his sister, pulled his abdomen in, threw his arms out, and then put them on his stomach as he bent over reacting to the punch. Ten seconds later he threw his head back, spread his arms, and fell backwards onto his rump and back. He counted to fifteen before he stood, turned to Stephen, nodded his head, and sat back down.

“Do you guys play act at home with each other?” asked Stephen.

Again they looked at each other, then answered simultaneously, “Yes.”

Stephen’s cock twitched. He wanted more than anything to stand, open his fly, pull out his cock, and ask both of them to show him how they would suck his cock. He thought, _‘They have ability. I hope they’re both virgins.’_ He broke his reverie and said, “Go out to the vestibule and ask your mom to come in. Please.”

Three minutes later Michelle Cooper entered his office. She was unimpressed with the décor of his office. The walls were bare of any pictures, paintings, and decorative items. His desk and the chairs situated in front of the desk impressed her. She knew it was made from a very difficult wood to secure in the forests of Norther India. He wore an expensive suit, oxford shirt open at the collar, and what had to be a pair of custom made alligator shoes. Michelle estimated the shoes had to cost Stephen a minimum of $2500. Otherwise, Stephen Stewart Simmons was a very much understated individual or so Michele thought.

“Please close the door,” he said, “and take a seat.”

Michelle Cooper sat and found the bare wood seat to be a lot more comfortable than expected. She smoothed her skirt before she sat, but it still rose up her legs exposing the lace tops of the navy blue stockings she wore. Her knees were together and her calves where skewed to the right as she placed her feet to that side. She smiled showing perfect teeth. Her steel blue eyes penetrated Stephen’s consciousness. He could see that she knew she was a very sexy woman.

“How did they do?” Michelle asked.

“They have strong personalities,” replied Stephen. “They have a natural ability to convert a stage command into a response. A response that shows what was supposed to be shown to the audience. Did you act?”

Showing some humility, Michelle responded, “I never acted. I was a catalog model. Never broke into the big time. I still work when I’m asked. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of women’s lingerie photographic sessions for the major department and specialty stores nationwide.”

“You are a very attractive woman,” responded Stephen. “May I ask what your husband does?”

Her face changed in an instant. The color drained from her face. Her eyes teared. She took a deep breath, released it, and said, “My husband was murdered three years ago. It happened when he was crossing Pont Marie in Paris, France. Three street thugs thought he was a homosexual. They pulled him across the bridge and into an abandoned building. They beat him. They emasculated him and shoved his severed genitals into his mouth. They left him naked on the floor. He bled to death.”

“Jesus,” said Stephen. “Did the French police catch them?”

“Yes,” replied Michelle. “They were three Algerians. Homophobic men who it turns out were raped as boys by the men in their village.”

“Were they tried and convicted?” asked Stephen. His mind was racing trying to put together how this woman suffered and coped with the loss of her husband.

“Yes,” she replied. “There is no death penalty in France. They were found guilty because they were stupid enough to leave DNA evidence behind. They did not sexually abuse my husband. He scratched them hard enough to break their skin and have skin cells embedded underneath his nails. They are doing life without parole.” Michelle paused, gently patted her eyes with a tissue, and said with vitriol, “If I could, I would kill them myself. Slowly. Painfully.” She shivered, regained control, and said, “But, that is a pipe dream. They’re in prison. All I can hope is some alpha males are using them as their bitches.”

Stephen shook his head as he said, “I am so sorry for bringing up such a sad time in your life. Please accept my apology and my sorrow at your loss.”

Their eyes met and as if something more than sight passed through to each of them, Michelle relaxed and parted her knees. She was not shy about what had just occurred. Her hands rested on her thighs at the hem of her skirt. Her body moved and the skirt rose. She was wearing panties, but the small piece of material that covered her sex could be considered non-existent. Her crotch was smooth as a new born baby’s ass.

To Stephen, her display was as if it was happening in slow motion. He shifted in his chair as his gaze was drawn to her sex. His cock rose in his pants. He could see it was plainly obvious to Michelle that he was uncomfortable. Not because she was displaying her charms but because she knew his penis was expanding in his pants.

“I am surprised,” said Stephen. “Surprised that you would expose your charms to me considering this is our first meeting.”

“I’m hoping it will help my twins move from catalogue shoots to acting,” said Michelle.

“As I said, they have potential,” said Stephen. “You’ll have to enroll them in acting classes. They’re raw. They need to be polished. With professional help, I believe they will make a name for themselves.”

Michelle closed he legs, smiled, and said, “I imagine that you’d like to sign them to an exclusive contract.”

“That would be a very nice first step,” said Stephen. What Michelle did not realize was his cock was sticking straight up through the zipper of his suit pants. “I think you should show me some of your talents.”

“Talents?” queried Michelle.

Without any fear, Stephen stood, walked around his desk, and presented his rampantly hard cock to Michelle. “Suck it,” was all he said.

Michelle’s draw dropped open when she saw the size of the penis that was inches away from her face and mouth. Her eyes moved from his face to his cock multiple times. Stephen could see she had lost her ability to speak. Her hands unconsciously slid up and down her thighs. Her knees opened and closed slightly as her gaze returned to the largest cock she’d ever seen in the flesh and not on a male porno actor. She loved her husband, but his cock was only seven-and-a-half inches.

Stephen knew she was flabbergasted at his size. He pulled back slightly and said, “Never saw one this big for real?”

“Yeah,” was all she said.

“I’m not going to force you. But, I want you to know that I am going to fuck you vaginally and anally. You are going to fellate me and swallow my ejaculate. Then when you’re comfortable and ready, you are going to give me your children.” He paused and saw the look of surprise and fear on her face. “I will make them stars. The world will run to see them perform. In the privacy of my home, they will perform for me, as will you. If you do not want to make this private compact with me, stand, and leave. If you report me to the authorities, I will deny everything. I will use my wealth to bankrupt you.”

“They’re just children,” said Michelle. “They’re not… Oh my god!!!” She closed her eyes, whispered something to herself, opened them, and said, “I want to, but I can’t. They’re my children. How could I give them to you? Give them to you as if they’re nothing but sex toys. God…”

Her frustration showed. Stephen could see her desire. His demand to have all access to her children was something she had not thought of. It was a normal reaction. He remembered when Angelina’s mother sat where Michelle was. The idea of this man, this talent agent having sex with her daughter was an anathema to her moral compass. Yet, he could see her desire. In the end, she agreed. Angelina Corsi tried but failed at becoming an A-list actress. She accepted a job working for Stephen. Her husband, as well as her mother, knew she still had sex with her boss. What they did not know was Angelina’s participation with her boss when he asked or she notified him of her own desire for a particular child. His mind returned to Michelle. He wanted to penetrate the woman. Instead, he pushed his erection back into his pants and said, “I will never force you. I know you want my cock. I will give you until ten AM tomorrow morning to give me your answer. You can verbally tell me your decision. If I do not hear from you by ten zero one AM, then I will know you are not interested in my help with Constance and Charles.”

Michelle closed her eyes, clasped her hands together, and said, “You want to have sexual relations with my daughter and my son? Are you some pedophile pervert?”

“Some people say exactly that,” replied Stephen. “But, those that have children that are natural talents also see their potential. They agree. You’ll never know who is on my client list. But, there are some very top tier A-list actors and actresses that I represent.”

“What if my husband was alive? What would happen if he was totally against it?”

“Then the same would apply. Nothing said by either of you means we part never to speak again. Go to the police and I will bankrupt the family.”

“Do husbands agree?”

“Some do some don’t. Most who agree understand that I will cuckold them. They make the decision. Watch. Watch and partake. Accept that their wife is mine and they are no longer the alpha male in the household.”

“Do you have sex with them?”

“Yes. I do. I break their masculinity. They suffer the humiliation of having to suck the cock that fucks their wife and ultimately accept their submissiveness. Some even go so far as to become feminine. Sissies. Serving their wife and children as a low life cuckold sissy. Some men fight with their wives and leave the marriage. Some men win and they leave knowing that their wives and children are safe from what most believe is abuse of a minor.”

Michelle whispered, “Help me… I am willing to have relations with you to help my children. But, I am not one hundred percent agreeable to allowing you to use them possibly against their will. I will not expose them to psychological and physical pain, shame, and abuse by an adult. I did not come here with my eyes closed. I was propositioned by another male agent, but I refused because he did not have the clout to take them to the top. I know you do. But, my children…”

“I never force myself on them. I go slowly. If I see a child fighting with what is happening, I stop. My intent is to make any sexual act pleasurable. If you consent, then you will be involved. You will help them to understand. I prefer that the parent be the teacher. I don’t use pornography. The children watch the sexual interaction of their parents and me. It is the only way I will have relations with your children.”

“Let’s say I say yes. Then whatever period of time passes and everything you try to help them agree to having sex with you fails. They are not accepting of your desires. What then?”

“Then I continue to have sex with you while I continue to help them grow into the polished actor and actress they want to be. I’m not saying that I would not entertain a relationship with either of your children if they come on to me when they’re older. I’m going to be honest with you Michelle. I am a pedophile. I love children. I love to have relations with children between the ages of six and twelve. That is my wheelhouse. If nothing happens between those ages, and either or both of your children come to me when they’re older, I will not deny myself. I would only hope that I am the first. If not, they’ll probably be A-list stars and fucking them would be just another man or woman they’re having sex with.”

“God… I’m so…”

“Conflicted. You want to open your legs and ask me to fuck you. You want to feel me inside you. You want to feel me ejaculate into your love box. Then you want to walk out of here and feel my cum drip down your thighs. The sixty-four thousand dollar question: What would you say to your children when they ask what is dripping down your legs? More importantly, by agreeing to take me into your body, you tacitly agree to my trying to educate them sexually. Your fear is that I will succeed.”

Michelle reacted as if a bolt of lightning hit her square on the top of her head. She snapped closed her legs, straightened her back, threw her shoulders back, and stared directly into Stephen’s eyes. She rolled her fingers into a fist which she kept on her thighs. Her breathing was short, but under control. It took a moment for her to flatten her fingers, stand, and say, “One thing to ask me for sex to help my children. It is another kettle of fish for you to demand sexual access to my children. I’d rather see them be children and grow up doing anything but acting because some scumbag agent wanted to satisfy his disgusting need to engage in pedophilia. That being said, I am out of here.”

Michelle stood, turned her back to Stephen, and made her way to the door to his office. When she tried to turn the doorknob she was surprised and quite taken aback. The door was locked. There was no way to release the lock. She turned to Stephen and demanded to be allowed to leave. When he did not answer she stood still and stared at him.

“I want you to know that I’m very impressed with your children. They’re abilities are beyond what any child I have interviewed. I will unlock the door, but you need to rethink what you are willing to give up. I can assure you that both of them will become A-List actors. They will have no need to worry about money. By the time they reach the age of eighteen, they will be worth millions. You, as their parent, will partake in their wealth. I will make sure that you are taken care of. All you have to do is turn around, bend over my desk, and allow me to penetrate you. I will make you beg for more. I will ejaculate in your pussy. You will feel my cock slide up your ass. As much as I love anal sex, I will finish in your hot twat. Like I explained earlier, you will have to explain to Constance and Charles why there is a stream of white liquid running down your legs. I promise that both of your children will accept and come to love what I do to and for them. Your call Michelle.”

The part of her panties that covered her sex was wet. So wet, it felt as if she was dripping vaginal fluid down both her thighs. Thankfully, her vaginal fluid was not emitting an overpowering smell. But, any man or woman with experience would be able to tell she was sexually stimulated. Michelle thought, _‘Never to worry about money. All I have to do is relent, fuck him, and if he is to be believed, allow him to indulge his pedophilic desires with not one but both my children. God…’_ “Promise me that I am not going to regret my decision,” she said. “If I may talk to your receptionist privately, I would become more accepting of your proposal.”

“Fair question,” responded Stephen. He went to the phone on his desk, pressed the intercom button, and then the button to release the door lock. Angelina entered without having to be asked. Stephen nodded to her and without verbally excusing himself, left his office. The door closed, but did not lock.

No preamble. No hello. No simple questions to begin. Angelina stated, “He asked to fuck you. Fuck you in your ass and your pussy. He told you that he would ejaculate into your pussy. All this as a preamble to have sex with your two very darling children.” Angelina opened her eyes wide, arched her eyebrows, licked her lips, smiled and stated, “Correct.”

Michelle was dumbfounded at her direct unfettered statement of what occurred before she entered the office. Keeping her cool, Michelle stated, “Yes. You are correct. And, since you are so direct, at what age did he fuck you?”

“We started when I was six,” said Angelina as her eyes took on a faraway look. “He did not penetrate me until I was eight. For a year-and-a-half he performed oral on me. Vaginal and anal. He never fingered my pussy. He would finger my anus after I learned to allow my mom, dad, or him to give me enemas. On my eighth birthday, he licked me for a good hour before he slid up my prepubescent body, raised my legs, and gently pushed his erection into my body. He thrusts were soft but they went the full length of his cock. If you’re wondering, I was in pain. He knew it and I knew he knew by the look on his face. I could see his delight. His cock pierced my hymen. My vagina was his.”

“How long did he fuck you?”

“Not as long as I thought he would. I would estimate about four minutes. His orgasm control is amazing. He thrust, pressed his pubic bone against mine, and ejaculated. I never felt anything as wonderful as his cock pulsed inside me.”

“Where were your parents?”

“My mom was downstairs in the family room. My dad did not want to be home when it happened.”

“Why?”

“Why… I believe that he wanted to be the first. It became obvious by the time I was five. My mom kept him under control. It was better that he wasn’t home that night.”

“Did he ever get to?”

“To fuck me? No. Once Stephen lay between my legs and sucked my hairless prepubescent pussy, I was his. Not married, but his child wife in a sense.”

“I can’t see him accepting the thought that his beautiful daughter was now the sex toy of an adult male. I will assume your mother was accepting of his pedophilic desire for you.”

“Yes. Stephen taught my mother to suck my pussy as he taught me to suck hers. My dad was offered my pussy, but only to suck Stephen’s hot cum from it.”

“Did he?”

“No. He had no predilection to becoming a cuckold, but he knew he was one because Stephen was fucking my mom.”

“What did your father do for sex?”

“I know he had a woman on the side. My mom accepted it to keep the marriage together.”

“You work for Stephen now. What happened to your acting career?”

“I was good, but not good enough. I did not have the extra one percent. I performed on stage twice in the chorus, but never could win the leading role. Movies were another story. I auditioned for sixteen movies. I was offered bit parts in twelve of them under the condition that I fuck the director.”

“Apparently, you didn’t.”

“Stephen would not let it happen. He would not share me just to get me a part. He does that with all of his clients. If your children become clients, he will never allow anyone to use them sexually to secure a part. They will make it on their acting ability. Not their sexual ability.”

“When did he stop having sex with you?”

“He hasn’t. My husband knows he fucks me. There are clients he stops with because of circumstances – like marriage. There are others that become wealthy enough and strong enough to tell him he is done.”

“Do they leave and find another agent?”

“No. They stay, because Stephen is a wonderful agent. When he calls, people answer the phone. And, most of all, he respects their decision.”

“Interesting. He loves to have sex with children, yet he will have sex with adults. I thought he would prefer smooth prepubescent children.”

“He does not continue fucking every client. The ones he keeps are very special.”

“So, you’re telling me he has had sex with a child once or twice and then stopped?”

“I’m not saying that. I know when certain children reach puberty he shuts down his sexual desire. While he expands his desire with others. I will tell you that he will stay with your children for a long time. I saw his face. It was love at first sight.”

“Oh my God. He is in the reception area with them now…”

Angelina held up her hand stopping Michelle. “He is the consummate gentleman. He is probably talking to them about what they like, how they do in school, and how much they’d like to become actors. Trust me when I tell you that if you say yes to what he is presenting to you, your children will not be abused or harmed. They will actually come to you and tell you that they’re happy to experience his love.”

Michelle shook her head and said, “But they’re children…”

“I wish you were on the playground with them at school. In a child’s body but with your mind. You’d be surprised what kids talk about these days. How about six and seven year olds discussing blow jobs. Wondering if a boy would like them better if they did it. Some go so far as to offer their asses. They’re smart enough to know that if they get fucked anally there is no way in hell they’re getting pregnant even though they cannot at that young age. Trust me when I tell you this.”

“Do you have children?”

“I wish. My husband is sterile. He ejaculates but the sperm is not viable. We discussed other methods, but decided to be childless.”

“Adoption?”

“Discussed and rejected. I know there are a lot of children needing families. My husband and I just did not want someone else’s child. It sounds cold, but I wanted more than anything to carry a baby to term and push him or her out of my body.”

“What about asking Stephen to provide you with seed?”

Angelina smiled, “We discussed it. My husband let me know that if I carried Stephen’s baby he would consider leaving the marriage. Stephen would not let that happen. So, we are childless. I am as sterile as my husband. Stephen has coitus with me and gets to ejaculate into my womb knowing I cannot conceive. All parties are happy.”

“I really don’t know what to do. What do you think?”

“I never tell a potential client what to do. Why? I really do not want to face the consequences if something goes radically wrong. The decision has to be yours. I have to ask, where is your husband?”

Again, Michelle’s eyes watered, but no tears cascaded down her cheeks. She simply said, “My husband was murdered.”

Angelina’s right hand went to her mouth. It remained there momentarily and then she said, “I am so sorry for your loss Michelle. Please forgive me for asking.”

“It is ok. I know if he were alive I would not be entertaining what Stephen is suggesting. Yet, here I sit. I will ask again, what would you do?”

“Pardon my question or questions, but if it will help, I will ask them.”

Michelle nodded her acceptance.

“Did you and your husband ever discuss incest? Did he ever come to bed after tucking in the children with an erection? Did he climb on top of you and force you to have intercourse?”

“Oh my God!!!”

“I will take that as a yes. I will hypothesize that he was thinking about one or the other as he fucked you. I know by the look on your face it was not your typical lovemaking. He thrust hard into your body. He did not care if he was hurting you. You were a surrogate sex tool. His mind was on either one or both as he used your pussy to masturbate. If you weren’t home, I bet he’d be on the computer or in your bed jerking off thinking of how sweet it would be to have his cock inside them.”

Michelle’s eyes flew open. She was about to say something when Angelina put her hand across her mouth.

“Do not scream at me for possibly telling you the truth. I do not want or mean to denigrate your dead husband. I asked and you assented. I am sorry if I brought to light something you never thought about or considered.”

Michelle closed her eyes as she said, “There were nights Constance or Charles came to my bed. They’d lie next to me and sooner or later I was spooning with them. I missed my husband and they were there to fill it. On a couple occasions I found myself rubbing their bellies. I never touched them, but what I infer from what you just said, maybe I should.” Michelle shivered where she sat. Then she said, “I am so confused.”

“Then I will counsel you to wait. Go home. Be yourself. Let things go where they may. If after, say two weeks, you’re cuddling your children without touching them, then call Stephen and tell him you’re not interested. But, if you are touching them and they are accepting of your love, then you have a chance to become extremely wealthy.”

“Thank you. Sincerely from the bottom of my heart. Let’s bring Stephen back in.”

Angelina rose, bent, placed a gentle kiss on Michelle’s cheek, and whispered, “I would gladly go down on you.” She caught Michelle’s eyes, smiled, and went to the door.

Stephen walked in, closed the door, and Michelle heard it lock. She knew Angelina had the ability to lock and unlock the door from her desk. _Triple S_ took his seat behind the one of a kind desk. With his hands on the desktop he asked, “Did you have a good talk? And, have you made a decision?”

Michelle’s eyes fluttered, she stood, walked around the desk, and as she did Stephen turned his leather executive chair to face her. Their eyes met and before he could react, Michelle’s right hand made contact with Stephen’s left cheek. He was stunned. His reaction time was several seconds slower than Michelle’s. She used the same hand to grab hold of his left ear which she twisted hard enough to make her point without ripping it off of his head. Stephen sat dumbfounded and in pain.

“Listen you two bit piece of shit pedophile,” she spat, “if this goes anywhere, you will accept that I will not be submissive to you. My children will not suffer as submissive bitches to you either. Understand that when you put your cock in to my body it is only with my permission. Any orifice you use is with my permission. You do anything to abrogate my equal, no, superior position to you and I promise I will place your cock and balls into a jar of formaldehyde and secure it permanently to your desk. You have money. I have physical and psychological strength of character. I will release your ear only when you comply with my demands. Not requests. Demands. You do not own me. You will never own my children. You will honor them. You will give them the start in life that I cannot. You fail and the jar will be on your desk. You will sit here a broken emasculated eunuch staring at what used to be between your legs. Do you hear me?”

Frightened beyond anything thing that scared him in his thirty-six years, Stephen nodded his head. He tried to speak but the pain was too much for him to bare. Using all of his strength, he moved his head slightly to make eye contact with the woman whose hand had the strength of a vise grip on his left ear lobe. His eyes met hers and he whispered in pain, “Y-Y-Yes… I-I-I agree…”

Michelle released her hold and prepared for his physical reaction. To her amazement, Stephen remained sitting as he rubbed his left ear. She looked down and saw a small but very obvious wet spot on the front of his pants. She inhaled and knew immediately he had released a small amount of urine. _‘He’s mine,’_ she thought.

“First time you were assaulted by a woman?” asked Michelle.

Nodding slightly he answered and Michelle could hear the fear in his voice, “Y-Y-Yes.”

“I saw the wet spot on your pants. The smell gave you away. I am going to table any possibility sexual contact between us occurring right now. You’re nothing more than a pedophile that has met his psychological match. Friday night you will come to my place. There I will transform you into what I want. You will comply. If you are in my presence and fail to comply, the jar will be on your desk. Non-compliance is not an option. If you decide that you do not want to come to my place, then you will lose the opportunity to make my children stars. As of this moment in time, they are not fodder for your sick sexual desires. I need to hear you proclaim that I am not your submissive bitch.”

“You are not my submissive bitch.”

“You have my address on Long Island. I expect to hear my front doorbell ring at precisely 5:45PM. One second late and our deal if off.”

Before Stephen could answer or react, Michelle pressed the button that was hidden underneath the desk where Stephen sat. The door unlocked. Without a word, Michelle opened the door and departed Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency.

Angelina rose from her desk, bolted into her boss’ office, and before she could speak, saw the look of fear and loathing on his face and in his eyes. She stopped, put her hands to her cheeks, and said, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” replied Stephen.

“You don’t look ok.”

“That woman is a hellion. She damn near ripped my left ear off of my head. I have never feared anything in my life as much as I presently fear that woman.”

Angelina came around the desk and before he could move, she saw the wet spot on his suit pants. The fact that he wet himself proved to her that he was truly afraid of Michelle. It was time for Angelina to show her boss that nothing he has done in the past, present, or future will cause her love for him to fade. She stepped between his legs and lifted her skirt. Her bare pussy was uncovered and available to him. She pressed her hips forward and said, “Ravage me, boss. I am here for you. If you need to take out your anger and fear of her on me, I am here.” With her left hand holding up her skirt, she took her right hand and placed it on the back of his head. She gently applied pressure and Stephen overcome with the odor of her sex, allowed her to press his face into her twat.

“That’s it sweetie,” cooed Angelina, as she felt his tongue begin to search for her clitoris. “Relax, lick me a bit, but don’t cum. Three-thirty this afternoon sweet Dora will be here with her mother. Dora will ride your cock for as long as you like.”

Stephen sighed when he heard the girl’s name and immediately filled his underwear with several ropes of cum.


	2. Friday, March 22, 2019 – Private Estate, Old Brookville, NY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interaction between Michelle and Stephen Steward Simmons based upon previous meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Friday came before Stephen realized. During the week he had several conversations with Angelina concerning his possible agreement with Michelle. She counseled him that the worst case scenario would be his not having relations and not having two precocious children to guide through their modeling and acting careers. He agreed but could not help from staring at their pictures. Every time he stared at either one of them he became sexually excited. As much as he fucked every day, he would sit behind his desk, stare at one or both of their pictures, and jerk off. They were that stimulating for him. It took until Thursday for him to make a decision. Stephen would travel out to Long Island with expectation that he would fornicate with Michelle and her children.

The drive from the Upper West Side of Manhattan to Old Brookville to just under an hour-and-forty-five minutes. The street turned out to be a one lane affair that was more of a driveway than a street. It was easy to miss if the driver was not paying attention. Michelle’s house, to say the least, was secluded as there were no other houses on the street. The distance from the road to the clearing that her house sat in was just over a half-a-mile. The land cleared around the house totaled twenty-five acres. The rest of the one thousand acres were protected thick natural forestry. When he pulled up to the house he sat in his car and used all his might to control his rage. Michelle’s house appeared to be a custom built log cabin mansion. Just from driving up the circular driveway, Stephen estimated the house to be at least thirty thousand square feet and that did not include the separate multi-car garage that sat to the left of the mansion. He parked near the front doors, exited his vehicle, walked up and onto the front porch, and pressed the doorbell.

Michelle looked at her watch. It read 5:43PM. She smiled to herself as she walked to the front door. Upon opening it and temporarily blocking Stephen’s access, she eyed him, stepped aside, and said, “Come in. You’re early, but that is way better than late.”

“This is one hell of a house,”’ said Stephen trying to contain his anger as he crossed the threshold.

Michelle closed and locked the front door. She turned, took Stephen’s elbow, and guided him as she replied, “Yes it is. My husband left me quite well off. I really don’t have to worry about anything as do my children. Their trusts are well funded and the attorney who manages them is also a crack financial wizard. We’ll head into the public family room.”

The public family room was more like a banquet hall. It was twenty-five feet wide and fifty feet long. The left side of the room was floor to ceiling windows with several doors out to the deck, patio, and swimming pool. The entire house had random width oak wood floors stained in Golden Oak. The fireplace was a triple wide floor to ceiling stone affair. The mantle was built out of the same stone and the supports appeared be the same wood as the exterior of the house. In one corner was a professional gaming table. The room was filled with high end leather sofas, settees, and love seats. To the right of the entrance there was a twelve foot professional bar with twenty-four stools. Behind the bar was four shelves of liquor. The wine cellar door was hidden, but easily accessible.

Michelle pointed to a small conversation pit and said, “Please sit.”

“Really…” was all Stephen said as he made his way to the leather couch.

“Would you care for something to drink?”

“Only if you are.”

“I’m going to have a glass of Bordeaux. That ok for you?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Stephen watched as Michelle went behind the bar, opened a wine cabinet, and removed a bottle of Chateau Lafitte Rothschild. With deft hands she opened the bottle, decanted it, and brought the decanter and two glasses to where he sat. Upon sitting she poured a glass for Stephen and one for herself.

He smelled the wine, swished it around the glass, smelled it, and said, “Quite a beautiful bouquet. May I ask the vintage?”

“1929.”

“You must have a very accomplished wine sommelier and a wine cellar to be able to store such grand crus.”

“It was my husband’s passion. He taught me and I maintain the wine cellar, albeit with some help.” She chuckled and said, “He would figuratively kill me for not letting a wine this old breathe for at least twenty to thirty minutes. But, I knew we needed to talk.”

Stephen took a sip, then a gulp, and savored the taste and texture of one of the world’s greatest wines. He did not put the glass down on the marble coffee table. He held it in hands to keep from throwing the glass at Michelle. Leaning forward, he asked, “What is your game?”

With eyebrows raised, Michelle answered, “Excuse me…”

“Direct and to the point. You’re a fuckin’ multimillionaire. Maybe even a billionaire. You probably… No, you definitely have more money than I do. Yet, you come to my agency, feign poverty, and try to see what I would do for your children. If I am correct, you probably could have called any studio head and gotten an audience. To take a page from The Godfather, I wouldn’t put it past any of them, male or female, to try what I did. They’re just as devious and disgusting as I am. But, you have taken the cake.”

“Actually, I have started a process I learned from my father and husband. Right now, not literally but figuratively, my attorneys are combing through your life. Finances, investments, loans, social, and criminal activity. I am going to be forthright and honest with you. By the end of next week, I will own one hundred percent of your debt. I can see on your face that you do not believe me. I own a private bank on Grand Cayman Island. That bank will secure your debt. If you are current, you will not have a problem. If you are in arrears, then I will call the loans. As the new loan holder, I can do that. Make the payments on time, and you will not have to worry.”

Frowning, Stephen asked, “Why are you doing this to me?”

Shrugging her shoulders and with a wry look on her face, Michelle answered, “Because I can.”

“No. There’s more to it than that. Which one of your friends did I offend? Whose child did I have sex with that knew you had the ability to fuck with me? Please. Tell me.”

“No one. I am a very private person. I have a very small circle of friends. They are always travelling the world, In fact, my best friend Jill and her husband, spend all but two weeks on their yacht travelling around the world. They follow the summer.” She held up her right hand and said, “Including Jill and her husband, my entire circle of friends is one less than the number of digits I am holding up. So, no one was offended by your sick desire to fuck children.”

“And you don’t harbor those same feelings?”

“I am a good actress Stephen. I came to your agency because I heard some things about you that frightened me.”

Stephen put the glass down. Rubbed his hands on his thighs and said, “What things?”

 _‘Stupid bastard,’_ thought Michelle. “You sat across from me and told me in no uncertain terms to help my children you wanted to fuck me and then them. You wanted to shove your cock up my cunt and basically use it to masturbate. Then you tell me how wonderful you will be to Constance and Charlie. That you will help them become sexual beings. You’ll be gentle and loving. That each of them will fall in love, not with you, but with your cock.” Michelle paused, picked up her wine glass, and took a sip. After placing the glass on the table she said, “I feared for my children’s life when they were alone with you in your office. I relaxed when they bounded out happy and unharmed. I was not surprised to see that you were softening from an erection. Then you had the audacity to sit across from me gently stroking your cock.”

“I was not!!!”

“Please, do not make a liar. I saw your arm move. The only thing you could be doing was rubbing your erection as is was encumbered by your underwear and pants. You want to change your incredulousness at my accusation?”

“Yes. I was. But, I was hoping you would bend over the desk and invite me into your body. I will admit that you are one hell of a hot lady. After two children, to look the way you do is amazing. Very few women rebound the way you have.”

“Thank you. More importantly, do you want to represent my children?”

“I do, but I don’t know if I can.”

“Your sexual deviance is that all encompassing that you are willing to give up what could be your two best customers? Really. I can see your reasoning. I can always take over your agency, fire you, and then hire you back after I shit all over you in the industry. Or, you can accept that you will represent my children without having sex with them. The only caveat I have for you is simple. If you accept that I own your ass, I want you to stand, undress, and prostrate yourself on the floor. I will apply enough lube on and in your anus to facilitate the entrance of one of my midsized strap-on dildos. When I am fully embedded into your ass, you will reach to your left, pull the paperwork I will have placed on the floor in front of you, initial each page, and sign on the last page above your name. I have taken the time to date each page. If you do not accept my terms, I will make the rest of your life miserable. What did I tell you I would do to you?”

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me. You cannot be serious. You want me to sign a legal document while you are butt fuckin’ me. Please, take your money and your bullshit and shove it up your ass.”

Michelle smiled, stood, and walked to the bar. She picked up her iPhone and made a call. When it was answered, Stephen could only hear one side of the conversation. In fact, the conversation was so short it stunned Stephen. To prove that she was unafraid of him, Michelle put her iPhone back on the bar, and returned to her seat.

“I have advised my attorney to speed up the process of acquiring your debt. As you heard, I am going to purchase the banks and brokerage houses where you have your cash and investments. By Tuesday, Wednesday the latest, you will be broke. Or, you can do as I said.”

 _‘Fuck!!!’_ thought Stephen, _‘several tens millions of dollars gone. Property gone. Availability of prepubescent sexual partners gone. Fuck!!!’_ He sat dumbfounded and close to broken. “I have to ask. What do I need to do to make this all go away?”

“Fair question, Stephen. If you really want to make this all go away and return to your business; you have to accept seeing your junk in a jar on your desk.”

“FUCK ME!!! You want me to allow you to emasculate me. To take from me, the one thing I cherish more than anything else on his earth. I’d rather be dead than allow you to remove my genitals.”

“I can arrange your death.”

“FUCK!!! I cannot win with you.”

“You can. To keep your money and your stature within the movie industry, stand, remove your clothing, and accept that from that moment on, I own you. I will turn a blind eye to your pedophilia. I will allow you to run your business as you have for the past ten years. You will make Constance and Charlie the number one child actors in the world. If I tell you to stand in front of Angelina and jerk off, you will. If I find some hot guy that I want to see you to suck off, you will. Your ass will become a sex toy to masturbate alpha males. You will allow my choice of alpha male to fuck you. When my children are in your presence you will be submissive to them. I promise they will not do anything to make you afraid of my reaction. Or, you can stand, leave the premises, and never travel without being scared of when I will do something to physically or mentally hurt you.”

Out of the blue, Stephen asked, “Where are Constance and Charlie?”

“You can’t see it from where you’re sitting, there is a small playhouse at the back of the property. Actually, it is bigger than some houses people live in. They are there. Watching television or playing video games. They will return when I call them.”

“If I do as you ask, will they be here when it happens?”

“No. I will show them later what occurred. They will be knowledgeable of your commitment. They won’t witness it first hand, but if I wish, they will watch it after the fact.”

The air left his lungs. Stephen fell over to his side. His hands went to his face. His body shook as his muscles went into spasm. Quietly he moaned, “Please… Please… Stop this insanity…”

“You want it to stop? Then let it happen. If the idea of being butt fucked by a woman is abhorrent to you, then stand drop your pants and underwear and present them to me so I can destroy them. Or, say no, walk out, and live your life in fear.”

“You lied to me. You came to my office with your fuckin’ children and played me for a fool. I want, no need, to know your end game. Apparently, you are financially secure. Therefore, I am asking, what is your endgame?”

“You want to know? Then get fuckin’ naked. When you are on your knees in front of me and I am secure in my knowledge that you have accepted my superiority over you. I will tell you.”

“Is there any room for compromise? Any???”

“No. Either you do as I say or…”

“Fuck!!! Ok!!! Ok!!! Ok!!! Stephen slowly slipped off his alligator loafers. He opened the matching belt, the clasp to his pants, and lowered them. He stepped out of his pants, held them up, and neatly folded them. His three button polo golf shirt was next. As he did with his pants, he folded the shirt and placed it on top of his pants. Last to come off was his Under Armour boxer briefs. Anal as he showed before, he folded them and placed them on top of his shirt. He stood for a moment and per Michelle’s order, he dropped to his knees.

Michelle picked up a remote control, pressed a button, and a one hundred eighty inch TV descended from the ceiling. Another button was pushed and the custom made Samsung turned on. With the same remote, she opened a hidden electronics bay and turned on a Goldmund Eldos Reference Blu-ray player. She paused the already seated DVD before it could get started. “Put your eyes on the television. You will watch and I will pause it at specific points to ask you one or many questions. Understood bitch?”

“Yeah, I understand,” spat back Stephen as he wondered what the fuck he was going to have to watch.

The kick was swift and right on target. Stephen’s head snapped to the back as Michelle’s instep caught him directly under his jaw. Nothing could stop his backwards motion. He collapsed onto his back, screamed, and tried to get up. The foot that was pressing on his neck prevented him from moving and breathing easily. His eyes bulged from their sockets. The alpha male in him tried to remove Michelle’s foot from his neck. The end result was more pressure on his Adams apple. Seeing the futility of his attempt, he relaxed and stopped fighting what was going to be a losing battle.

“Do you understand bitch?”

This time he responded properly, “Yes. I understand ma’am.”

Michelle raised her foot and said, “Kneel and watch the TV.”

“Yes ma’am,” replied a terror stricken Stephen.

The Goldmund Eldos Reference Blu-ray player started and a picture of a thirteen year old girl came onto the screen. She appeared to be 5’5”, thin, long dirty blonde hair, and a smile that could melts men’s and boy’s hearts. The background gave no indication as to where the girl was standing. When camera zoomed in on the girl’s face, Michelle paused the Blu-ray player.

“Know her?” demanded Michelle.

“She looks familiar, but, I cannot place the face.”

“Let me give you a hint. You fucked her when she was five. That was eight years ago. Remember?”

Shaking his head, Stephen simply said, “No.”

The video started again and when a picture of a young girl came onto the screen, Michelle paused the Blu-ray player. With a very hard edge to her voice, she said, “Look at her!!! Tell me now you don’t remember.”

“I’m sorry. I have no recollection of that young girl.” To himself in his mind, Stephen said, _‘Where did she get that picture? I am going down a slippery slope.’_

The video started up again. The next series was of a five year old girl, naked, and strapped down to a bed. He watched wide eyed as a man entered the picture. There was no doubt as to who it was. The camera panned up to the massive erection that protruded from the crotch of the man. The small child started to wail and cry. Her body shook. No one had to be told that she was afraid to her core. The man came to the edge of the bed, pulled the girl’s legs up, and exposed her small vagina. The man knew there would be enough slack for him to pull the child to the edge of the bed. He positioned her and without a care in the world for the child, he shoved the full length of his erect cock into the girl. The scream was piercing to the ear. Anyone watching had to know that the child was in terrible pain. The man could care less. He held her by her hips, pulled almost the entire length of erection out and rammed it back in to the hilt. It only took four thrusts for the girl to pass out from the pain. As the fuck-wad that was raping the girl, the amount of blood coating his cock grew exponentially. The sheet just under the girl was a bright red. The man fucked her for seventeen minutes before he groaned, pressed his massive cock hard into the unconscious girl, and ejaculated. When he was through cumming, he pulled his still hard cock out of the girl’s ruined vagina, and chortled at how hot she looked spewing cum and blood from her camel toe.

Michelle paused the video. She leaned to his left ear and said, “Do you remember now? I know you know what happens next. Tell me so I can continue by simply fast forwarding to the next victim.”

Stephen could not contain his arousal. His nine inch cock was at full mast. He shivered because he wanted to pleasure himself. He turned his head and said, “Sweet isn’t she. I remember. How could I forget the fun I had with her. She never knew until it was over that I had raped her little ass. God, she was so sweet.”

“You fuckin’ pervert. Say her name. And then say what you did to her.”

“Justine. Justine Hirschfeld. I raped her for three days and two nights. And, every time my cock was in her, I ejaculated like I have never ejaculated before or after. If that was her at the beginning, she isn’t worse for the ware.”

Michelle grabbed him by the nose and twisted it violently. She held on as she yelled, “YOU RUINED THAT SWEET GIRL. YOU TOOK HER CHILDHOOD FROM HER. SHE WILL NEVER HAVE CHILDREN. SHE IS TOTALLY AFRAID OF ANY FORM OF SEX. AND, I AM GOING TO TAKE FROM YOU THE POUND OF FLESH SHE CANNOT. WHAT IS WORSE, THE DVD HAS MULTIPLE RAPES OF BOTH BOYS AND GIRLS. IN FACT, I HAVE YOUR ENTIRE COLLECTION.”

Stephen’s cock shrunk to a soft mass hanging between his legs. His body shook as he lost control of his bladder. He pissed on the beautiful hardwood floor. It took a massive amount of control for him to keep his sphincter closed to prevent himself from shitting on the floor. “NO MORE!!!” he yelled. “PLEASE!!! I WILL DO ANYTHING YOU ASK!!! JUST STOP SHOWING ME!!!”

“You are a piece of work. I know you sit at home or in your office and jerk off to videos you made of your rapes.” Michelle released his nose, put her hand on the back of his head, pushed it to the floor, and demanded, “LICK UP YOUR MESS. DON’T MISS A DROP. IF YOU DO, YOU WILL LEAVE HERE WITHOUT YOUR GENITALS.”

Stephen wanted to fight, but knew he did not stand a chance. He was masculine in one sense, but underneath it all, he was a scared little boy who used his position and power to subdue and rape children. As he got closer to the puddle of urine, he cried out, “STOP!!! PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME LICK IT UP!!! I WILL DO ANYTHING YOU ASK!!! ANYTHING FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!!! NOT THE URINE!!! PLEASE!!!”

His face hit the puddle and some of the acrid smelling urine got into his mouth and up his nose. He wretched but did not regurgitate. Michelle rubbed his face in it before she released her hold. She stepped back and said, “Understand that I am going to make you pay for what you did to those children. I do not care if they are multimillionaires and beholden to you. What I need to hear from you is simple. In your own words, I want to know exactly how many children you raped. How many allowed you to abuse them. And how many are stars. Then I want to hear you beg me for forgiveness.”

Stephen started to stand when he felt Michelle’s foot between his shoulder blades. “Ok!!!” he whined. She watched him make peace with the idea that his face would remain in the puddle of his own urine. “I lost count of the number of girls and boys I have raped. See, I started abusing children when I was a child. So, I really cannot tell you a valid number. As far as the number of boys and girls that made it to stardom, I know the exact number. It is twelve over the ten years I have been in business. I do not know how you broke the vail of silence about my pedophilic life. I am asking you to keep my sexual deviance private. I am begging you to not shut me out of a business I love. I promise to do anything and everything you ask of me. I mean it. Anything.”

“Lick up your mess and I will believe you.”

“Anything but that. Please!!!”

Michelle had enough. She pulled a blackjack from her rear pocket and with just enough force struck Stephen on the side of his head knocking him out. Strategically placed behind the bar were plastic hand and ankle cuffs. His hands were secured behind his back and his legs together. At most, he would be able to hop two footed to the basement door and down the steps. Once he was in cuffs, she put a small bottle of smelling salts under his nose.

“Wh-Wh-What???” he moaned. When he finally regained consciousness he screamed, “You fuckin’ bitch!!! What did I do to you??? Either you unshackle me or when I am free I am going to fuck…”

“You’ll do nothing to me,” said Michelle in a quiet voice that filled Stephen with fear. “Two choices. First, let me help you walk to the basement where I will secure you for the foreseeable future. Or, second, I knock you out where you lay, castrate you, and dump you in front of a hospital somewhere in Bumfuck, Iowa.” She waited and then said, “Wow!!! What would be even better would be to secure your genitals with several plastic wire ties, keep you here for say six hours, and then dump you in front of a small local hospital. I will lose the ability to have your genitals in a jar, but your suffering will be exponentially greater than if you were already castrated.”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!!! What are you some kind of pedo police???” Stephen paused, filled his mouth with spit, and spat it at Michelle. It did not hit its mark.

Michelle went to the wet bar and pulled out a black medical bag. She pulled out a hypodermic needle and a small vial. She removed some alcohol and cotton swabs. She wet a swab, rubbed it on the top of the vial. She did the same with the needle. Making a show of what she was doing, she inserted the needle into the vial and drew out twenty-five millimeters of liquid. She carefully placed everything back into the black medical bag except for the syringe. She stood behind the bar, stared at her captive, and performed several Kegels to reduce the sexual tension that was building in her body.

Stephen turned his head when he heard the crazy woman who had him cuffed and immobilized. He witnessed what could only be the onset of a small orgasm. _‘This fuckin’ woman is crazy. My goose is cooked. She’s a fuckin’ serial killer,’_ he thought. As she approached, he saw the syringe in her right hand. It wasn’t like she was trying to hide the medical instrument. He had one and only one chance to get out of this god forsaken situation. Making sure he kept his cool, he spoke, “Before you knock me out, give me a chance to explain and help you. If I cannot convince you to stop this insanity, I will submit to your castration. Please…”

The room was dead silent except for the sound of Michelle’s footsteps. Since she was wearing running shoes and not heels, there was no echo of her footsteps. She stopped by his side, smiled, and said, “Explain what? That you’re a pedophile that used a modeling agency as a source of victims?”

The chance to get out of the situation had presented itself. He knew he’d have to agree on certain points and hopefully change her attitude concerning others. “Yes, I am a pedophile. But, you already knew that. I have something that will allow you to sate your desire to castrate pedophiles both male and female. If you just give me a chance, I will open to you a world that will make your head spin. I am certain of that.”

“This better be good, because, I am losing my patience with you.”

“I can open a door to a world of child abuse that will give you a reason to satiate your desire to ruin pedophiles lives. You’re not doing this for your children. You are doing this for your own satisfaction. I saw you orgasm behind the bar. You’re sexually excited at the thought of removing my genitals. You are loving the idea of making me suffer. But, if you stop for a second and realize, I just may be the key to the door that will allow you to enter a world of underground child pornography and human trafficking. When you see what is behind the door, you will be amazed at the people you find there. Trust me, I know. The top one half of one percent of the wealthiest people on the planet to politicians, doctors, lawyers, business people, and some have induced their own children to take the road of ruining children’s lives.”

Stunned Michelle stood still gripping the syringe, stared hard at her captive, and said, “Are you offering me access so I won’t remove your genitals? Do you think I am that stupid? Leave your sexual desire intact? I’m still not convinced.”

“What if I could make a phone call and tomorrow evening bring you to a party where you will see it firsthand. I promise you will have a very hard time keeping from murdering them all. I promise you that.”

The frown on Michelle’s face showed Stephen that he was beginning to make his case. He thought, _‘I am right. She is doing this to satiate some unconscious need.’_ Then the bulb went on, “Listen Michelle, I can help you. Especially if you were abused as a child. I understand from whence you came. I was taken down that road also. Please, cut the plastic ties. I will not do anything but sit and talk. Let me help. Please,” he begged.

“What makes you think I was abused?” she asked.

 _‘Jesus,’_ he said to himself. “I could see it in your face. I could feel your tension as you masturbated thinking about removing my testicles. What I cannot discern is who abused you and for how long. But, as I lay here naked and afraid, I know that someone you knew and trusted abused you. I want you to think what we could do together. I will not hurt you. I promise,” said Stephen trying his best to convince her of his honesty.

Just as she was about to fall into his trap, Michelle regained control of her inner being. The being that made her into the person she is today. She was wealthy beyond belief because she married a man that took into account her abused childhood and taught her to love again. Love that produced her two children. The monster that was her other personality had to be controlled. If she let it out completely, the end result would be worse than just emasculating Stephen. A feeling of contentment surged throughout her body. It was time.

“Stephen, there is no way in hell I am going to believe a word that you’re saying. I watched all of your deviant DVD’s. You have no defense,” she said. Michelle twirled the syringe in her right hand as her right foot ran from his knees to his genitals. Each time she got close enough to his family jewels, she stared into his eyes and feigned kicking them. Fear was written all over his face. “Telling me about the others who indulge in your sickness is something I already knew. Going to a party will not satiate my desire to make you suffer for what you have done.”

“Please…” was all Stephen could moan. “Let me go and I promise to serve you. Serve your children. I will give everything I have just to let you allow me to live. Please… Hear me plead!!!”

“You can beg. You can plead. You can stipulate that you will accept being my bitch,” cooed Michelle. “But, for me to release you, I have to take something from you. I need something to remind you of what you gave up to live your life. Albeit, a life of an emasculated man whose life is dependent upon the woman who has your cock and balls in a jar.”

“Why don’t you just kill me?”

Laughing, Michelle answered, “Because that would be too easy. Your death has to be a very, very slow process. A process that will make you suffer every minute of every day of the rest of your lousy life.”

“FUCK YOU…”

“No sweetie, fuck you. Your mouth and ass will be receptacles for alpha male cock. You will pleasure ersatz cocks that are strapped around dominant women’s waists,” said Michelle. “And to make it worse, I will keep you here as my slave. Naked twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. People who come to visit will ask me what happened to you and I will tell them by showing them your genitals.”

Stephen closed his eyes and silently prayed. He was not a religious individual, but his mother’s evangelical upbringing surfaced as he comprehended what was being said to him. With all of his might, Stephen screamed and tried to break the plastic bonds that held him helpless. When he realized that nothing he could do would break the plastic ties, he said, “I know I’m right about you. I know someone close to you abused you as a child. This is not a reaction to something you’ve read or heard about. Someone abused you. For how long, I can only guess. But, I have nothing more to offer you. Take what you want from me. Take my money. Take my business. Take my home, car, and other non-liquid assets. But, leave me whole. I am begging you Michelle,” he said just before he took a deep breath and pleaded, “Do not emasculate me. Put me in chastity. As devious as you can make it, but at least I will be a man. Please…”

Michelle knelt by Stephen’s head and countered, “Chastity, my ass. You are going to me smooth down there. And when a large cock is slipped between your legs from behind, you’ll be able to look down and silently remember what used to hang between your legs. Then you’ll walk into my office and see the jar front and center on my desk. And to assure you that you will know they’re yours, I will have the jar engraved with your name, date of birth, and date of their removal from your body.

Shaking his head from side-to-side, Stephen moaned in a quiet broken voice, “You are one sick bitch…” Then he felt the needle slip into his neck. Darkness overcame him as his body reacted to the drug Michelle had just pushed into his body.


	3. Friday, March 22, 2019 - The Entombment of Stephen – Private Estate, Old Brookville, NY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen Simmons entombment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

_Triple S_ woke up with a horrendous headache. Because his arms were tied to the cot he was lying prone on, he could not massage his temples in an attempt to relieve the pain. It took just a few moments for him to realize that the bitch had drugged him and how she accomplished his movement to where he lay was a question he could not answer. The one thing that made him relax, just a bit, was the fact that he could feel his cock and balls resting between his legs. Stephen so wanted to hold them and caress them. He did not want to masturbate. All he wanted was to relish the fact that they were still attached to his body. His legs were strapped to the cot at his ankles and just above his knees. For all intent and purpose, it was impossible for him to move. The room was pitch black. The cot was nothing more than a simple Army issue canvass sleep cot. His ability to move his extremities was impossible. If he lifted his head, he could only hold it up for a moment before it became too heavy and difficult to remain off of the canvass. Taking into consideration all that had happened, Stephen screamed, “HELP ME!!! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME!!! PLEASE!!! HELLO-O-O!!!” He rested a moment because his head started pounding again and then he screamed, “MICHELLE YOU FUCKIN’ CUNT!!! I’M AWAKE!!! FUCK YOU!!!”

Silence. No response. No sounds of anyone coming to where he was strapped down. The room remained dark. There was no sign of whether it was day or night. Stephen had no idea of how long he’d been unconscious. He tried to relax and begin to use his brains to ascertain his ability to escape or his ability to let someone know he was alive. His eyes moved around as much as his head allowed. The darkness was so complete he could not see the ceiling or the walls. There was no light entering his prison from a door or a window, if there was a door or a window. Then it dawned on him. His entire body was encased in some sort of tight fitting body suit. It became apparent to him that he was breathing through two straws that were placed into his nostrils and through what had to be a latex mask. His screaming was all in his head. The only part of his body that was not encased was his genitals. The only thing Stephen could do was to stop fighting his desire to break free of his bonds, relax, and try with all of his might to remain calm until the authoritarian bitch that bound him returned to his prison.

Stephen’s mind whirled with crazy thoughts. Was he going to die? Was he going to ever see the light of day again? Would he ever feel the silky smooth interior of a prepubescent girl’s vagina? His incessant thinking of sexual desires and needs did not result in his getting an erection. His hope was that if he remembered the best of his encounters with both boys and girls, he would magically ejaculate without ever touching his penis. His thinking turned inward, as he thought, _‘Please God… I really never asked or beseeched you for help… I promise to never do anything to a child again…’_ His thoughts stopped for a moment. Then out of somewhere he cried to himself, _‘Yeah right!!! Like you’ll stop fucking children as much as you’d stop breathing.’_ Stephen fell silent. His mind tired from screaming with no one hearing. The savior was his finally falling unconscious into a deep mind fucking sleep. Stephen did not dream. He lay comatose on the cot. The only movement was the rise and fall of his chest and abdomen as he breathed.

\-------------------------

The feeling of an object squeezing his testicles snapped him out of his comatose state. It took a moment for Stephen to regain the knowledge that he was encased in a full body and head latex suit. Although he did not need to he squeezed his eyes closed as he tried to stifle the scream that ultimately emanated from his partially opened mouth. The pressure upon not one but both of his testicles and his cock did not cease nor was there a reduction in pressure. His mind snapped and he yelled, “PLEASE DO NOT CRUSH MY GENITALS!!! PLEASE!!!”

The pressure remained constant but equal. He assumed, quite correctly, that the pain he was feeling would slowly cease as his body became used to the pain. His mind was crying out for it to stop. His voice was lost as he found it very difficult to breathe through the two straws. The pressure was not being caused by a human hand. He thought it was a metal object, but he could not ascertain what it was – a vice grip – a pair of pliers – or some other type of tool.

The truth of the matter, Stephen was actually floating in a sensory deprivation chamber. The liquid contained in the chamber was formulated so the Buoyancy Factor was enough to keep Stephen’s body afloat without any form of a life jacket. His sensory deprivation was not considered a form of torture, but the way Michelle was using it, it could lead to a form of psychosis from being totally disconnected from his environment. Because the latex body suit was also acting like a pressure vessel on Stephen’s body, movement was not possible no matter how much he thought he was. There was no sensation of floating. His breathing was kept to a minimum because the lack of physical movement reduced his need for oxygen. The number of hours, days, weeks, or months he was encased in the latex suit was impossible to calculate. The lack of light from the rising and setting of the sun only added to his inability to know how long he’d been without his senses. The final disruption of his psychological abilities was his inability to control his ability to think constructively. The lack of being able to use any of his five senses began the breakdown of his psychological and emotional well-being.

“HELP!!!” cried Stephen multiple times only to have no one come to his aid. The saddest part of his pleas for help was they were not being heard; because, it was only being screamed inside his consciousness and verbalized. He never knew how long he screamed before his body would give out and he would fall into a sensory deprived coma.

Michelle sat in front of a sixty-five inch QLED HD Samsung TV watching his suffering. His lack of movement proved the chemical makeup of the water was perfect to keep his body afloat. To relieve him of his suffering, all Michelle had to do was to press a button on her console which would send a just large enough dose of phenobarbital into his system to render him unconscious. Removing him from the deprivation chamber would be an easy project; but, her mind was nowhere near allowing the asshole relief from her physical, psychological, and emotional torture. Her only concern revolved around how long he would be able to survive without any food or water. Her estimates of his ability to survive were based upon his height, weight, and lack of physical movement. Stephen was not burning calories at a rapid rate. Her estimate calculated out to his being able to safely survive for a maximum of three months before she would have to remove him from the chamber.


	4. Monday, March 25, 2019 - – 249 West End Avenue, New York, New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michelle uses Angelina to uncover pertinent documents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Michelle arrived at _Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency_ precisely at one minute before noon. Before entering the building she admired the 1890’s architecture of the remaining piece of a residential mansion that was originally comprised of five townhouses. The building was sandwiched between two multiple story residential buildings; because, the original owner would not sell to the developer. What resulted was one of the great anomalies of buildings in and around greater New York. Triple S purchased it from the estate of the original owners. The first of the five floors was his office space. The remaining four upper levels were his private residence. Michelle thought, _‘I’ll wager the top floor was his sexual activities lair. Show the child the height and scare them into letting him abuse them.’_ She took a deep breath and entered the building to find Angelina sitting behind the reception desk in a complete state of shock. To her own amazement, the reception area was empty of clients and future clients.

Angelina looked up when she heard the heavy oak and mahogany front door open. Her relief was short lived when she saw Michelle enter and close the door. Without preamble, she asked, “Do you know where he is? He is never not here without letting me know.”

“Open his office,” commanded Michelle. She said nothing in response to Angelina’s question.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I am your worst enemy, Angelina. Now, open his office for me so I may search for the documents I need.”

“There are no documents in his office that pertain to you or that you should have access to. There is a level of client-agent privilege and privacy that cannot be violated.”

Michelle moved to the side of Angelina’s desk before she positioned her body to Angelina’s left side. Using her best calm demeanor and voice, Michelle said, “You need to calm down. If you don’t, I will have to take drastic measures to make you calm. I do not want to hurt you. But, I need you to understand that I am not someone you want to mess with. So, please press the button to unlock his door so I may go about my business.”

The look in Michelle’s eyes was enough to scare the living shit out of Angelina. She reached with her right hand to the right inside leg of her desk and pressed the door unlock button hidden there. Once the sound of the latch quieted, she asked, “Where is he?”

As she opened the door, Michelle replied, “He is safe in a place you do not want to be in yourself.” Stopping just inside the office, Michelle turned and stated, “You can help me. By doing so, you will help your case. Understand, I am not really interested in you, but if you decide to go against me, I will ruin your life.”

Angelina stood and stepped into Stephen’s office. “What are you seeking?”

“I am looking for the boxes that contain his DVD’s. I know they contain videos and pictures of his sexual indiscretions with prepubescent children. I have a good portion of them, but I want the rest.” Michelle paused, stared hard at Angelina to see the woman shiver with fear, and said, “Also, I want every document as it relates to every family, single mother, single father, and children that has passed through the front door.”

“In other words, you want everything,” said Angelina. “Is he dead? Have you taken his life from him?”

Michelle laughed and said, “That would be too good for the asshole. He is alive and well. But, he is in a place that you do not want to be.”

“Can I speak to him?” asked Angelina.

“No,” replied Michelle.

Frustrated at Michelle’s response, Angelina scowled and asked, “If I give you everything, will you release him? Also, what are your plans for me?”

“My plans for you are simple,” replied Michelle. “You will continue to work for the agency as long as you understand that I am your employer. Try to openly or clandestinely to fuck me over, and I will ruin your life. You’ll be alive, but you will not have a pot to piss in. I will take all of your cash and assets. You will be totally broke. You and your husband will crawl to me and beg my forgiveness. If I am in a good mood, I may give you both the opportunity to redeem yourselves in my eyes.”

Angelina started to sway where she stood. Michelle noticed but did not say anything or offer her a chair to sit in. Her first physical movement expressing her fear was to rub her face with both hands. She did it for a couple of minutes before she said, “My husband is not part of Stephen’s craziness. So, why hurt him?”

“Your husband knows that Stephen fucks you. Your husband knows Stephen has sex with underage children. Your husband knows that you also indulge in pedophiliac activities. Therefore, your husband is complicit in your illegal activities.” Michelle could see Angelina was trying with all her might to stem the flow of urine from between her legs.

“W-W-What do you want from m-m-me?” stuttered Angelina.

“I want you to calm down and open up every hiding spot you know of in this office,” said Michelle. “Then I want you to tell me all of the banks he has safe deposit boxes in.” Michelle saw Angelina act like she knew Michelle did not know everything, smiled, and burst her bubble, “Angelina, I am not that fuckin’ stupid. I know every bank he has accounts and safe deposit boxes in, what I want from you is the documents or computer files to corroborate what I already know.”

“Cannot fault a person for trying,” said Angelina. “Please tell me where he is. Is he safe? Can I see him?”

“First, you stop asking me about him or his whereabouts,” countered Michelle. “When I see you have complied with all of my needs and demands, I may allow you to see him. Either way, the longer you take to facilitate my takeover of his business, the long he stays incommunicado.”

“He owns the building,” said Angelina. “There is a floor below the basement. On that floor is a secure room that contains everything you want. Only he has the access codes. I have never been in the room.”

Michelle stepped close to Angelina. Before the woman could react, Michelle had her hand around the woman’s neck. “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me Angelina. If you know of the subbasement, then you know how to access the room and gain access to its contents. I am going to ask you just one more time to give me what I need or your husband will be a widower.”

Hearing Michelle threaten her life, Angelina pissed all over herself and the floor. No words were spoken by the frightened woman.

“I knew it,” said Michelle. “You going to comply or are you going to die?”

“T-T-The c-c-codes a-a-are i-i-in a-a-a c-c-compartment b-b-below h-h-his d-d-desk,” stuttered Angelina. She recovered enough to state, “It is located in the floor.”

Michelle released her hold and said, “Show me.”

The puddle of urine did not stop either woman. Angelina went behind the desk, moved the expensive leather executive chair, pulled back the small handwoven Oriental rug, and pointed underneath the desk. “There,” she said.

“My god,” laughed Michelle. “Do you really think I am that stupid? Open the fuckin’ compartment. If there is a key, show me where he keeps it, get it, and open the fuckin’ door. If there is a biometric lock, use your finger or eye to open it. Once I empty it, there will be no need for it to be used in the future.”

Angeline opened the center drawer of Stephen’s desk and pulled out a six-sided custom key. She pressed a button on the floor and a small panel slipped open. She put the key into the custom lock, twisted it right, left, and then right again before the lock disengaged. She pulled the door open, stood, and said, “Everything you want to gain access to the subbasement is in the compartment.”

“Thank you Angelina,” said Michelle just before she cold-cocked the woman.

Angelina hit the floor with a thud and remained unconscious in a heap. Michelle had a bit of struggle to move her, but after she got a good hold of the woman’s ankles, she dragged her out of the way. To assure herself that the unconscious woman would not try anything stupid, Michelle bound her ankles together and her hands behind her back. Once she was in a position to look inside the compartment, she was astounded that all it contained was a single four-by-six index card. There were twelve sets of numbers neatly written on the card. Michelle nodded knowingly that she would need Stephen to gain access to the subbasement and its information.

After she inspected the card and found it to be unexceptional, Michelle placed it in one of the zipper compartments in her over-the-shoulder handbag. She sought out and found a source of water. Using a glass filled with water, she poured it over Angelina’s face. The shock of cold and wet was enough to bring her back to her senses.

“W-W-What the f-f-fuck!!!” cried Angelina.

“Welcome back bitch,” said Michelle. “Tell me what I need and I will unbind your hands and ankles.”

Knowing she had no leverage or abilities to stop Michelle, Angelina said, “What do you want from me?”

“I found an index card that contains twelve sets of numbers,” said Michelle. “Confirm what I know by explaining what you know about them.”

“There are ten false flags,” said Angelina. Inside she was dying because she was giving up the most important part of Stephen’s illegal activities. “Two of the twenty-four number sets opens the door to access the subbasement and the main door lock at the bottom of the staircase.”

“Use one of the wrong ones and the room goes up in flames?” asked Michelle.

“No,” replied Angelina. “The room is a space unto itself. Use a wrong code and it fills with halon gas. Access is impossible until you enter the correct code and the exhaust fans remove the gas.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Michelle. “I am going to ask you one more time to give me the correct answer. If you don’t, I am going to take that Louisville Slugger baseball bat and shove it up your ass.” Michelle stood for a couple of minutes staring at Angelina before she spat, “DO NOT TRY MY PATIENCE.” To make her point, she moved to the bookcase, broke the glass to make a point, removed the bat from its display case, and returned to standing over the frightened woman.

“Shit!!! Shit!!! Shit!!!” moaned Angelina. “I give you access to the subbasement and I will open a Pandora’s Box that will never be able to be closed.” Angelina got some courage and backbone before she said, “You access what he has in that room and you will ruin the lives of ninety-nine percent of Hollywood.”

“I really do not give two shits who falls from what is hidden in that room,” countered Michelle. “I know it will take Stephen to open the doors. I know that you know which of the codes are correct, because you are his backup. So,” Michelle paused, tapped the baseball bat against her right leg, before she said, “You are going to give me the correct codes because you are going with me to the subbasement. Deny that you are his backup and know that I will shove this thirty-six inch bat up your fuckin’ ass until the knob is press flat against your asshole. Having thirty-six inches up your ass is not going to be pleasant.”

“You know you are signing my death warrant,” said Angelina. “I’m not worried about Stephen. I am worried about the individuals that are complicit in Stephen’s activities.”

“Do they know the codes?” asked Michelle.

“No,” replied Angelina.

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” said Michelle. “They will know nothing about what happened until it is thrown in their face. Just so you know, the FBI and local police departments have no knowledge of what is going on here today. And, they will not know anything into the future. So, talk or this baseball bat enters your asshole without lubrication.”

“Ok!!! Ok!!!” said Angelina. “Stephen changes the codes every month. He did it last week. If they are not changed in three weeks, the locks become inviolate until he opens a special compartment and uses a retina scan to allow him to gain access to the system to change the access codes.”

“See, that was easy,” said Michelle. “Are the twelve codes rotated or does he create new ones every time?”

“The two operating code cannot be repeated – ever,” said Angelina. “The number of digits creates a humongous number of possibilities.” She sighed and said, “There is a program on his computer he uses to generate random number codes. Please do not hurt me. Please.”

“One last question for now,” said Michelle, “He generates twelve but only enters two into the system, therefore the other ten are still viable. I know he has to keep a listing of the used codes. Where are they?”

“In the hidden folder with the random number generator on his computer,” said Angelina.

Michelle nodded and out of the blue asked, “So, what kind of sex do you like with the children? Do you prefer boys or girls?”

Once the shock of hearing Michelle ask about her sexual deviance, Angelina replied, “I like performing cunnilingus on prepubescent virgin girls. Once they are no longer virgins, I believe their bodies produce a different tasting vaginal fluid.” Angelina shrugged her shoulders and said, “There. You have the truth. I will no longer lie to protect Stephen.”

“Interesting response,” said Michelle. “But, you did tell me last week you wanted to go down on me. You’ll suck an adult cunt but not a just violated prepubescent one?”

“Certain women turn me on. I’m not more lesbian than heterosexual,” said Angelina. “If I had my druthers, a large hard cock is preferable.”

Michelle wanted to break out laughing, but she just held her breath for a moment and said, “Really, I’ve seen some videos of you being fucked by a ten year old. Really??? Big Cocks???” Again, Michelle stepped closer to Angelina, tapped the baseball bat on her leg, and spat, “You’re a fuckin’ liar, Angelina. Do you really think I will not shove this baseball bat up your pedo ass? So, last time and this time I mean it. The truth and I mean all of it.” To instill fear in Angelina, Michelle put the barrel end of the baseball bat against her abdomen and pressed just enough to make her point.

The fear spread throughout Angelina’s body. It could be seen on her musculature and on her face as sweat rolled down her cheeks. “What I have told you about the subbasement is the truth. How to access that level of the building and the only room that is down there. My life is more important than my boss’. I will give you everything, but please allow me to justify my sexual predilections to keep my sanity. I am not proud of what you found on his stupid videos. There are videos of me as a young girl having sex with young boys. The only reason I did it was to please him. Later in life I came to realize that he loved to watch a boy’s ass. What I did not know at the time was the sexual activity was purely for him to gauge how fast he would be able to push his nine-and-a-half inch cock up their ass. I promise on my honor and life that will never lie to you about anything.”

“From this moment forward,” said Michelle, “you are my indentured servant. Paperwork will follow that you and your husband will sign. One failure on either of your parts will result in me providing enough information to the police to put you in prison for the rest of your natural life. Understand that pedophiles do not do well in prison. Keep your nose to the grindstone and I will keep you solvent and free. I will return here on occasion to check in. I have people that will report to me about your daily activities. Never question me about Stephen. If and when he returns, you will not recognize him. He will be a broken man. You will be amazed at how he responds to me. You will tell clients that Stephen is incommunicado and you do not know when he will be returning. You will continue to run his advertisements. You will meet the parents and the children. You will take down all pertinent information and tell them that you will be in touch. If they ask about Stephen, he is incommunicado. Agreed?”

“Yes,” replied Angelina, “I understand.”


	5. Friday, May 17, 2019 - Private Estate, Old Brookville, NY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michelle interrogates Stephen and has conversation with Dr. Armstrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Eight weeks to the day Michelle put Stephen into the deprivation chamber, she went into the room where it was located. Prior to that, she would check on him when she awoke and before she went to sleep. Other than those two times, she could care less how he was surviving. Since he had not died, she knew he would be totally pliable and relieved that he had his five senses back. What would totally freak him out was the fact that he was broke. He was destitute. Michelle knew he would ask how she pulled it off without him signing any legal documents. Her answer would most likely make him fall to the floor, assume the fetal position, and cry his eyes out. She knew the reaction because to a person, male or female, that was their reaction to her relating that they were destitute.

She saw his chest rising and falling much slower than normal. He was alive. Michelle pressed the button that automatically delivered a dose of phenobarbital to put him into an unconscious state. Once that was confirmed, she went into the room, opened the sensory deprivation chamber, and removed the much lighter Stephen from his prison. With care, she removed the full body latex suit and hood. As he lay on the examination table, she checked his body for anything that would necessitate medical attention. Nothing was found, so she moved him to a large oak chair. She strapped him in and double checked the bindings. The last thing she did was to place a black light impermeable hood over his head. If he opened his eyes to the light in the room, he would go blind and insane; therefore, he would have to be eased back into reality.

Eighty-five minutes after she dosed him to knock him out, Stephen Stewart Simmons came out of his drug induced stupor. Michelle watched as he cautiously tried to move. As his state of consciousness became real, Stephen began to moan. His body was not at all used to be free of the tight confines of the latex body suit. A deep intake of breath followed by its exhalation told Michelle it was time for her to talk.

“Stephen,” said Michelle in a voice that was close to a whisper, “do not try to move. You are strapped into a large oak chair. The hood over your head is there to protect your eyes and your sight. Nod your head if you understand what I have just told you.”

Stephen cautiously nodded his head in response.

“Good,” said Michelle. “I know you are starting to wonder where you have been and for how long. Nod your head if you understand me. As we move along, that is what I want you to do until I tell you to speak.”

Stephen again cautiously nodded his head in response. His mind was whirling with questions. He could not feel his body and more importantly to him, he could not feel his genitals. Stephen slowly started to gain four of his five senses. He wanted to scream, but he did not know what the ramifications would be if he did.

“I am going to give you another hour to regain your sense of being,” said Michelle. “Then I will be able to ask you questions and hear your verbal responses. The first time you think you can get over on me I will put you under and you will return to whence you just came.”

Stephen nodded his head in response.

Time was still not a valid part of Stephen’s being and without it, he was still not understanding his place in the world. For the next ninety minutes, his body recovered as did his mind. He was still without feeling between his legs. As he regained his ability to think, his mind constantly tried to confirm if his genitals were still intact between his legs.

“Stephen,” said Michelle, “please do not try to move with the thought of freeing yourself from your bindings.”

Stephen nodded his head in response.

“You should be able to talk now,” said Michelle, “so, please just say your full name for me.”

“S-S-Stephen St-St-Stewart Si-Sim-Simmons,” stuttered Stephen as he slowly began to realize that he could move his mouth and jaw so he could speak.

“Do you know what day of the week it is?”

“N-N-No.”

“Ok Stephen, I am going to tell you. But first, what do you remember.”

“I re-re-remember being at Michelle Co-Co-Cooper’s house.”

“You are still there. You have been here for eight weeks.”

“E-E-Eight weeks???”

“Do you have any idea or remembrance of our conversation?”

“N-N-No.”

“Ok,” said Michelle. The lack of memory was not a good sign. “Stephen, tell me what you do for a living.”

Stephen sat for a few minutes trying to remember. “I am a talent agent,” he said,

“Good. Do you remember the name of the agency you work for?”

“Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency. I own it.”

“Excellent. Why did you come to visit Michelle Cooper?”

“She brought her twins to my office to…” he said before he stopped. “FUCK!!! You… You...”

“I see your memory is coming back to you. But, first, I have to inform you of some things,” said Michelle. She waited for a response or a bone chilling scream as his memory continued to recover. Nothing was coming forth from Stephen, so she continued, “You have been kept in a sensory deprivation chamber for eight weeks. Today is the anniversary of me placing you into the chamber. Due to your lack of senses your body shut down to the point where you needed a minimum of oxygen to survive. Very low doses of a saline based food product was given to you. When I know your eyes have become accustomed to light, I will remove the hood. You are strapped into a chair so do not try to free yourself. Your muscles are not ready to support you or do things for you.”

“W-W-Why did you do th-th-this to m-m-me?”

“You are a very bad man Stephen. Do you have any memory of our conversation at your office and in my house?”

Silence for close to thirteen minutes. Michelle waited patiently. It was imperative that she reconstitute his long and short term memory. She would not speak until he did. If he did not, then the only action on her part would be the addition of a truth serum to the IV that was still in his arm.

“I told you that I would make your children A-list stars. I told you that to accomplish their rise to stardom you would have to have unprotected sex with me. When the time was right I would also have sex with your children.”

“So far so good. What else?”

“You invited me to your house to discuss the reasons why you should allow it to happen. Then you threatened me. My wealth and my life. You wanted me to hand over my company to you. You threatened to let the world know the type of man I am.”

“Yes Stephen, I did threaten you. I told you that I was going to take everything from you if you did not comply willingly.”

“I told you to go fuck yourself.”

“Correct-o-mondo asshole. ‘Cept, I knocked you out and placed you in a sensory deprivation chamber for eight weeks. You have no strength. If I were to release you from your binds and you were to try to stand up, you would fall flat on your face. You would roll to your side, assume a fetal position, and begin to cry uncontrollably. You are remembering faster than I expected, but I believe all you did while alone with just your thought was to cry out for help until you could not cry anymore. No one heard you except for you own conscious mind. The times you tried to call out for help became shorter and shorter as you remained in the chamber. By the beginning of the second week, you were totally silent. Would you like to ask me a single question?”

“My genitals…”

“When you tell me the truth, I will tell you about your genitals.”

Stephen tried to move and learned a quick lesson. His muscles tried to respond but due to their lack of use, they would not. The pain was mind blowing. Stephen cried out in pain and immediately stopped trying to move.

Michelle waited until he calmed down. When it finally happened she said, “I told you I was going to ruin you. As of Wednesday, I own your business, your properties located world-wide, and all of your cash is now in my name. I also have access to the subbasement in the building you used to own and where my pied-a-terre and office are located.”

If there wasn’t a hood over his head and his eyes were open the room, they would be spinning at several hundred revolutions per minute. Stephen cried out in pain, loathing, and humiliation. His mind raced as he tried to reconcile if his cock and balls would ever work again. Would ever be able to feel his body tense and spew his cum into a hot cunt or asshole? His life was nothing without his sexual organs. His lifestyle was taken from him by a woman who planned it from the moment she walked into his office. Finally, the memory of that Friday night came back into his consciousness.

“You fuckin’ lied to me. You said that you would not do anything to me. I know I fought with you, but I…”

“Yeah, you fought and lost, asshole. Angelina works for me now. She has spilled the beans. I know everything except for one last bit of important information. If you want to know the status of your genitals, give me the one last bit of information I need and I will tell you.”

“What do you want from me that you have not already taken?”

“I need to know the two codes that will open the subbasement door and the door to the only room in the subbasement.”

“You have the codes?”

“Yes asshole, I have the codes. I told you Angelina gave me everything. She tried to lie to me, but I used my womanly wiles to get her to accept the fact that I am her new mistress. If you want to know if your genitals will work, then be smart and give me what I seek. Fight me and I will castrate you. Your cock and balls will be on what used to be your desk that is now my desk.”

Where it came from Michelle did not know, but Stephen cried out, “FUCK YOU BITCH!!!” Two seconds later, his chin lay against his chest. Michelle had given him a dose of phenobarbital and rendered him unconscious.

\-------------------------

The side door chime of the log cabin mansion sounded. Michelle waited. It sounded a second time with a special tone that told her, her special guest had arrived. She opened the door, smiled, and said, “Good evening, Irwin,” as she stepped aside to allow the fine looking specimen of a man enter.

“Good evening, Michelle,” said Dr. Irwin Armstrong, surgeon extraordinaire. “Are we headed to the operating room?”

“Actually, we need to sit and talk first,” said Michelle. “Let’s head into the family room.”

“Lead and I will follow,” said the good doctor.

The walk from the side door to the family room was an adventure for the doctor. He’d been in the house before, but until tonight, it was a direct route from the side entrance to the fully equipped surgical suite located in the basement. Michelle took him on a bit of a roundabout route so she could show him her residence and also to confuse him a bit. Her intuition about his underlying desire to help her was proving to be true. Dr. Armstrong was introduced to her by her best friend after he helped her survive what was diagnosed as inoperable pancreatic cancer. Seven years later, she was alive and well.

Upon entering the huge room, Michelle said, “Wine?”

Irwin skewed his head to the side, thought a moment, and asked, “Will I be performing surgery tonight?”

“No,” said Michelle. “Tonight is what I would consider an evaluation. So, white, red, or rose?”

“I’ll have what you’re having,” replied Irwin.

“Sweet,” said Michelle. She went behind the bar, opened the wine cooler, pulled out a bottle of Bordeaux, and pulled down two red wine glasses. “Please sit Irwin,” said Michelle as she made her way to the conversation pit near the center of the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. She sat opposite Irwin, served the wine, and sat back into the leather loveseat.

Irwin, not a true wine connoisseur, took a small whiff of the wine prior to taking a sip. “Nice, very nice,” he said as he placed the glass on the coffee table between them. “What is on your mind?”

“I have someone that needs to be altered,” said Michelle. “Not doing a simple castration. I want to really ruin this son-of-a-bitch’s life. I have an idea, but I do not know if it will work in the short and long term.”

“Removal of the testicles is a very simple procedure,” stated Irwin. “Removal of the genitals in their entirety is slightly more difficult due to rerouting the urethra so the individual may have the ability to urinate comfortably.” He paused, took another bigger sip of wine, and said, “I have on three occasions not rerouted the urethra which caused the individual much consternation when having to urinate. Without a penis it is quite difficult to keep from pissing on one’s own body.”

Michelle smiled, licked her lips, and with her eyes a twinkle said, “That must be a very funny thing to see. I cannot image how difficult it would be for a man to try and stand or sit to piss.” After she chuckled, took a nice gulp of her wine, she asked, “Would it be possible to remove a man’s penis and place his testicles inside his body?”

Irwin frowned at the thought and asked, “Why would you want to do that instead of just emasculating the bastard?”

“I know what goes through a man’s mind when he awakens with nothing between his legs,” stated Michelle. “The lack of testosterone changes the body and ultimately the individual’s mind. I need something much more dastardly. I want the individual to become quite horny with only one ability to relieve his horniness.”

Irwin sat back, rubbed his hands up and down his thighs as he thought about the possibilities, and said, “I believe it can be done surgically. Remove the penis, remove the scrotum, and tuck the testicles behind or next to the bladder. They will remain there alive and well producing sperm with no obvious way of relieving the accumulation. That is one very sick thing to do to a man.”

“This individual deserves it,” said Michelle. “He is proud of his pedophilia. He is proud that he has abused boys and girls as young as five years old. He is proud that certain of them are beholden to him and because of it still allow him access to their bodies. They also have given him their children to abuse. I want this bastard to suffer mightily I want him to crawl to me and beg for me to insert something up his ass to relieve his sexual tension. I want him to know every minute of every day for the rest of his life, I caused his uncomfortable position. No cock. A difficult way to relieve his bladder. And, absolutely no way to relieve his sexual tension unless he fucks himself on a dildo or crawls to me. The latter is preferable.”

“I trust he is unaware of his future as a man,” said Irwin.

“He is,” replied Michelle.

“I would like to do some research before I do the surgery,” said Irwin. “I am not saying it cannot be done. I am asking for a few days to put my surgical ducks in order; so when I enter the operating theatre all will be done with precision.”

Michelle stood, stepped around the coffee table, and sat next to Irwin. Without saying another word, her hand went to his right and then to his crotch. She felt his cock begin to grow beneath his pants. When Irwin’s cock was near it full hardness, she looked into his eyes and asked, “Should I continue?”

“Please…” he moaned.

Irwin’s belt was removed from his pants. The pants were opened and removed from his body with his underwear. He sat on the couch naked from the waist down. His six inch cock rose from a trimmed bush of brown pubic hair. His balls were smooth as were his legs and ass. Michelle took his shaft in her left hand and began to gently masturbate him. He responded to her stimulation. Michelle could see a small bubble form at the piss split of his cockhead.

“Are you clean?” she asked.

“Yes-s-s,” was the good doctor’s answer.

It was an answer she expected. Dr. Irwin Armstrong was a world renowned surgeon that came under Michelle’s spell when he tried to seduce her while treating her best friend. He is a happily married man with three children. His stupidity in trying to seduce Michelle, before her husband was so brutally murdered, was the beginning of her owning his ass. Michelle knew why he tried. His wife did not try to keep her body in a decent physical shape. Dr. Armstrong was a very handsome man. The only downfall to his seducing women was his lack of size in the genital department. The fact that he was a surgeon helped him occasionally hit a cheating sexual homerun. The death of her husband on the onset of her desire to take revenge on pedophiles made it easy for her to wrap Dr. Armstrong around her finger.

Her left hand continued to stroke the hardening cock. A small tap of the fingers of her right hand signaled the doctor to open his legs and slip forward on the couch. When he was in position, Michelle took the index finger of her right hand and without any foreplay, inserted same into Irwin’s asshole. She pressed the entire length of her finger into the man rectum. She pressed on the round bump that was his prostate gland. Michelle heard the exhalation of breath and the moan of sexual pleasure. With an increasing intensity, Michelle massaged the good doctor’s cock and finger-fucked his asshole.

“J-J-Jesus-s-s,” moaned Irwin. His hips rose in concert with the fingering of his ass. The pressure of Michelle’s finger on his prostate was exceptional. He knew he would have an amazing orgasm. He loved every second of being masturbated and finger-fucked.

It did not take long for Michelle to have Irwin spewing the contents of his testicles and prostate all over his stomach and her hand. When he finished, she kept her finger inserted in his ass and presented her cum coated fingers of her left hand to his mouth. Not saying a word, Irwin opened his mouth and sucked Michelle’s cum coated fingers into it. He felt her finger press against his prostate which was the signal to begin to suck her fingers as if it was a man’s cock. For a split second, he opened his eyes, stared into Michelle’s, and moaned his acceptance of the second part of their mistress/submissive play.

“Taste good, faggot?” asked Michelle.

“Hmmmm…” responded Irwin.

“You like serving a beautiful woman,” chided Michelle. “You know the only thing I will do for you is to finger-fuck your man pussy and masturbate your smallish manhood.”

“Hmmmm…” responded Irwin as he sucked her cum coated fingers and responded with his hips to being finger-fucked by a woman who took his heart and mind.

“Cum for me faggot,” said Michelle. She knew it was time for the second small ejaculation.

While her fingers were pressing against the back of his throat, Irwin pressed his hips upward and dribbled a small amount of ejaculate from his not so hard cock. His ejaculation ended before it began.

Irwin opened his eyes, and mouthed around the fingers that were still in his mouth, “Feed me…”

Michelle pulled her finger from his ass, scooped up the miniscule amount of ejaculate, and exchanged it with the fingers Irwin was sucking on. His greed was either real or an act to keep him sexually tied to one very beautiful woman. His only regret was he had not met her before she was married. He knew the moment he met her husband, he was no match for the man she was married to. There were times as he pounded his wife’s pussy, his thoughts were on Michelle. As he sucked the finger that was just inserted into his ass, he groaned and had another, albeit, dry orgasm.

Their sexual encounter finished when Michelle pulled her hands away from Irwin and said, “Clean up.”

“Yes mistress,” was his reply.

Ten minutes later, the two quasi-lovers sat next to each other on the couch. Irwin was drained. Michelle was very wet. She would relieve her sexual desire in bed later that night. They each drank another glass of wine while sitting quietly not talking about anything of consequence. When the wine glasses were empty, Michelle guided Irwin to the side door.

“How long?” she asked.

“Plan for me to return this coming Friday evening. A week from today,” said Irwin. He leaned over, placed a chaste kiss on Michelle’s head, and said, “Thank you. My wife is totally asexual now. I look forward to our encounters.”

“I know,” said Michelle as she gently pushed him out the door.


	6. Tuesday, May 21, 2019 – Private Estate, Old Brookville, NY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first response to Stephen Stewart Simmon's removal from Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency and Michelle's comeback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Constance and Charles Cooper were dropped in front of their house at the end of every school day at 4:25PM. Michelle would wait just inside the door and opened it just as they arrived on the front porch. The welcome home routine never changed. Michelle would kneel just outside the door no matter how hot or cold it was outside. Constance would kiss her mother first. Then Charles would step up to his mother, make a joke about not kissing his mother in public, do it, and scamper into the house. Book bags were placed in the breakfast room. On the table were cookies and milk. A small snack was consumed before mandatory homework was finished and before Michelle worked with them on their modeling and acting skills.

At 4:30PM, Michelle was officially worried about where her children were. Their schedules for the week were cut-in-stone. Both children knew better than to go off with a friend without first clearing it with their mother. The yellow school bus always dropped them directly in front of the house. She cajoled and gave large amounts of donations to the school district to assure that her house had what was basically a private bus route.

At 4:35PM she started to walk down the private roadway beginning to get frantic. At 4:36PM, her iPhone rang signaling a non-contact incoming call. There was no name on the screen and the phone number was not real because it was all ones. Michelle stopped, pressed the answer icon, and simply said, “Hello.”

“Miss Cooper,” said a voice that was definitely being altered by voice modifying hardware and software, “you have someone that is very important to several very influential people. Bring him to Grand Central Station by midnight tonight or both of your children will be trafficked into the worse form of child slavery you can imagine. Midnight tonight in the main hall of Grand Central Station.” The call simply ended.

Michelle ran back to her house, entered, and immediately went to the area of the house that was built to block all electronic eavesdropping and maintain a tight control on all computer and Internet access. Her husband had designed and built the only Faraday cage that was actually a room in a house. What the caller did not know – Michelle recorded every call she made or received. She placed her iPhone onto a USB-C cord and transferred the call to an air gapped laptop computer. She listened to the call three times before she confirmed to herself that the voice was altered by hardware and software. Inside a small cabinet, Michelle found one hundred two terabyte flash drives that were as pristine as the computer she was using. The difference was that each flash drive contained directories filled with software hacking tools one of which would help her decode the voice modification. Once she had accomplished that, she would be able to begin the search to find the individuals who kidnapped her children.

It took Michelle until 6:17PM to break the voice modification. The natural sounding voice was that of an older woman. A smoker and by the tone and rasp in her speech, she was a heavy smoker. There was a lilt to her speech. Michelle listened to the short call several times before she realized the lilt was more of an accent changed over time by living in the United States. The only way she would be able to identify the voice and put a name to it was to begin what could be a very long process of taking the raw recording and searching the databases of communication transmissions controlled by the National Security Agency.

Hacking the NSA was an impossible task except for Michelle and her deceased husband. Together they had developed code that allowed the NSA to break any encryption key no matter how many bytes long it was. The officials at the NSA stood astounded as her software cracked a recursive 1024 megabyte key in seventeen minutes two seconds. One help was the use of their personally owned petascale supercomputer which had the capability of processing instructions in terms of one quadrillion (1,000,000,000,000,000) calculations per second. Designed and built by her husband and kept underground in a bunker located on her property, Michelle constantly kept the machine updated to be the largest and fastest supercomputer in the world. The only issue was that her machine was not known to the governments and corporations of the world so its existence and stature as the largest and most powerful was basically unknown. The only United States Governmental Agency that knew of her machine’s existence was the NSA. Their deal was as very simple. They had access to her machine when needed and she had access to their terabytes of communications databases. Finding the person whose voice was on the message should be an easy task.

Michelle stepped to a small alcove and pressed a hidden button on the right side just inside the jamb. The sound of pneumatic pumps and rods was music to her ears as the back wall rose into the ceiling and a table slid forward revealing a wall of monitors, several keyboards, and several pointing devices. On the side were three printers, one Hewlett Packard Color LaserJet printer, one Hewlett Packard Production DesignJet large format printer, and one Leapfrog XceL 3D Printer. It was time to find out who was stupid enough to kidnap her children. She placed the two terabyte thumb drive into one of the twenty-four ports on the USB hub located just below the center monitor. Using Python she wrote a quick program to access the NSA and begin the process of matching the voice on the thumb drive to the terabytes of databases containing voice communications. Michelle did not need to debug the program because she knew it would work flawlessly. She pressed the Enter key, sat back, and waited for the multibillion dollar supercomputer do its work.

The voice was identified in eleven minutes. Michelle had a name, an address, and several phone numbers. The computer identified the voice as belonging to Mabel Wagner. Once Michelle had the name, she used her programming skills to find out everything she could about one Mabel Wagner. She and her husband Walter Wagner were the owners a worldwide shipping company, several petroleum companies, and a real estate empire built on industrial warehouse buildings. They had two sons and two daughters who were married with families. Deeper digging exposed their families. Mabel and Walter Wagner and their offspring lived in one high-rise building in Manhattan. Their apartments were on the top three floors of a one-hundred and thirty four story residential building. Mabel and Walter had the top floor to themselves. Their oldest children had the floor below and the youngest had the floor below their older siblings.

Michelle memorized everything she needed to know about the Wagner family from their names to what they liked to eat to how many times a week the parents had sex. Her access to information was well beyond what the Wagner family could ever have or be able use against her. What she had to do was get the family together in one apartment without knowing why they were brought together. As she departed the alcove, she pressed the button to return the area to a simple depressed wall of absolutely no consequence. While still in the secure room, she made one phone call. It lasted long enough to give the individual at the other end several instructions. The first was the address of the Wagner family, the floors they inhabited, and the time she was going to arrive. The second instruction was to put on red alert six teams of former Navy Seals that were in her employ. There was no need for an explanation to the individual who answered the phone as they had performed clandestine operations for her husband prior to his death and since for her.

The Wagner family lived in a new high rise apartment building built on 57th Street directly across from Central Park. I was one of the tallest residential buildings in New York and it had one of the smallest footprints for a building of one-hundred thirty-four stories. Michelle entered the building at precisely 9:58PM. She went directly to the central security desk to find that the two guards were bound, gagged, and unconscious. Their side arms were broken down and the ammunition was nowhere to be found. Michelle smiled to herself as she walked around the desk to eye the closed circuit televisions. The architect designed the building with all of the security centralized at the front desk. Had he had any idea of proper security protocols, he would have designed multiple central stations placed strategically in the building to maintain an ironclad security footprint. Her ear piece crackled and she heard that all was set on the top floor. Without answering, she went to the private elevator, pressed the single call button, and entered the cab when the door slid open.

It took two minutes for the elevator to rise to the top residential floor. The door opened into the main area of the Wagner penthouse. The main windows look out and across Central Park. On a clear day, you could see Westchester from their penthouse apartment. Michelle walked across the marble floor to the living room. She took the single step down and walked directly to where Mabel and Walter Wagner sat on a rather opulent leather couch. In front of them was a coffee table made of antique stone taken from an Egyptian pyramid. Underneath the couch and coffee table was a hand woven and knotted 20x10 foot Persian rug. Standing behind Mabel and Walter were two six foot six inch military trained mercenaries that were two of the six members of Alpha Team charged with securing the building and the Wagner children’s apartments. They each held a specially designed M4 fully automatic sniper rifle chambered in NATO .556 caliber. Each weapon had a scope and silencer as well as specially manufactured magazines that held twenty-five cartridges. Every other cartridge in the magazine was a tracer round. On each man’s hip was a Sig Sauer P229 DAK chambered in 40 S&W with a silencer screwed onto the barrel.

The Wagner’s faces were frozen with fear. Michelle was expecting nothing less as she pulled a digital voice recorder from the bellows pocket on her right leg. She turned it on and let it play. Mabel Wagner could not keep from reacting to hearing her voice.

“Wh-Wh-What…” was all she could say as her body began to shake uncontrollably. If a doctor examined Walter Wagner, his or her diagnosis would have been that the elderly man was in a catatonic state.

Michelle pushed the coffee table to her right. She placed her body directly in between the two elderly people. She stared hard into Mabel’s eyes and demanded, “Where are my children? You have exactly sixty seconds to tell me or your youngest grandchild dies.”

Walter Wagner came out of his catatonic state when he heard Michelle’s voice. He gained some strength and could not control his anger as he screamed, “WHERE ARE MY GRANDCHILDREN???”

Michelle nodded to the man behind Mabel who quickly retrieved a 17 inch Lenovo ThinkPad from a small case that was in front of his legs leaning against the back of the sofa. The laptop woke from a sleep state in a matter of seconds. The WIFI access woke and accessed communications on a private extremely secure network. He handed the open laptop to Michelle who placed the device on the coffee table. The screen came to life and it became apparent to the Wagner’s that their children’s families were being held somewhere, but where they could not ascertain. It was readily apparent that the adults were separated from their children. The adults were naked and strapped to chairs. Each adult had a red ball gag in their mouth. It was plainly obvious they were scared, so scared that some of them had urinated where they sat. To prove that their grandchildren were alive, Michelle tapped a function key on the keyboard and the screen changed to show the nine children seated in a circle unaware of their surroundings or what had happened to their parents. After thirty seconds, Michelle returned the video to the room where the Wagner’s adult children were bound.

“This is not a game,” said Michelle. “I have access to things you only dream about. I found you simply by putting your message through software that uncovered your true voice. It took me all of seven minutes to make a one hundred percent match to you. I will start with your youngest grandson. You threatened my children. Difference is, I have your grandchildren and the means to begin skinning them alive in front of their parents. You have to have the ability to make contact with your kidnappers. You did not expect me to be standing here. You did not expect me to have your family under my control. You’re sitting there shitting in your panties because I gained access to your supposedly secure building. Make a choice now. Tell me where my children are and I will only take your assets from you.”

“You already have!!!” cried Walter.

Mabel Wagner held up her hand to her husband to stop him from talking. She looked at Michelle and said, “The individual you have incarcerated is. . .”

“You fuckin’ old cunt,” said Michelle. “He has a name. Do you know his name?”

“He is just a number to us,” said Mabel. “He does things for us and he keeps certain money out of the financial system. When you took his money, you took ours and a lot of very important people’s money.”

“I really don’t give a shit,” said Michelle. “What I want from you is the location of my children. You have exactly thirty seconds to tell me.”

“What do I get in return?” asked Mabel.

“You get to live,” said Michelle. “And, you get to see your grandchildren live. Fifteen seconds.”

To make her point she pressed a hidden transmitter in her left pant pocket. Three seconds later the laptop screen was filled with the scared eight year old boy. He was naked and strapped to a table. To make sure his parents knew he was fully aware of what was about to happen to him, he was not drugged. The youngster struggled against his bindings. He screamed, yelled, and cried. For a moment, the laptop screen changed to show his parents trying to scream through the ball gags at what they were witnessing on a one hundred twenty-five inch high definition television. Unbeknownst to Mabel and Walter, Michelle pressed the transmitter a second time. A very tall, muscular, and naked man entered the screen. He held a very thin razor sharp knife in his right hand. He held it up before he placed it just below the screaming child’s genitals. He held it there and waited.

“Mabel Wagner,” spat Michelle, “you think you have the stomach to see your own flesh and blood tortured in front of your face? You are a pervert and a pedophile. You will tell me where my children are or I will make you watch as everyone of your grandchildren are painfully tortured. Keeping quiet will make me do the same to your children. Tell me where my children are and I promise to give you the opportunity to make amends with your deity before you commit suicide. The only other demand I have for you is, you will give me the names of every person involved with Stephen Stewart Simmons and _Triple S_ Modeling and Talent Agency.”

Mabel sat watching the television wondering if this woman had the guts to enable the naked man skin her grandson alive. She’d seen a lot in her life. The taking of a child’s life was nothing to her. She felt her body begin to react to the possibility of seeing her youngest grandchild murdered. When she took a child’s life, she always had the biggest orgasm. Sex wasn’t normal for her. Sex was bound tightly to the ending of a child’s life. Mabel learned at a young age from her mother that sexuality was more than having intercourse. Dominance and control was instilled in her and she was taught that murdering an innocent child was the most rewarding act of sexual depravity she could and would ever experience.

The button was pressed. The large man did not acknowledge being told to castrate the boy. He simply pulled the boy’s genitals from his body and sliced them off. To prove that he had completed the removal, he held them up so the camera could focus on the man’s hand holding the boy’s genitals. What Mabel and Walter could not hear was the screaming of their youngest grandson. What they also missed was their youngest daughter vomiting and not being able to have her stomach contents exit her mouth. The girl had to either swallow the acrid tasting vomit or choke on it. If she breathed just a small bit of her regurgitated stomach contents into her lungs, she would die a very painful death.

“Next, he will slit the skin above where he removed his genitals and begin to filet your grandson as if he was a giant tuna fish,” said Michelle. “Sixty seconds, Mabel. Where are my children?”

To his absolute embarrassment, Walter Wagner ejaculated without gaining an erection upon seeing his grandson’s genitals being tossed like garbage onto the floor.

“Thirty seconds,” said Michelle. “Thirty seconds and Walter will have more than enough torture of a child to help him ejaculate a second time in less than two minutes. Based upon his age, that should be a Guinness record. Don’t fuck with me Mabel. Where are my children?”

After witnessing her husband ejaculate in his pants, Mabel wanted to castrate him for getting sexually titillated over his grandson’s emasculation. When she saw her youngest daughter trying to survive vomiting behind the red ball gag, Mabel cried, “Enough!!!”

“Five seconds, Mabel,” said Michelle.

“Your children are being held in a house in Belle Harbor,” grumbled Mabel.

“You bought yourself another fifteen seconds,” said Michelle. “The address or you will witness the boy being skinned alive. Once my man starts he will not stop. When the boy is totally skinned, he will take that really large cock and shove it up his ass. The pain of being skinned will not override the pain of have a fourteen inch cock shoved up his ass with only his blood as lubrication. The address Mabel.”

“It is the house at the corner of Beach 134th Street and Beach Channel Drive,” said Mabel in a clear voice. “It is number 1.”

“How many men are there guarding my children?”

“There are four.”

“Armed?”

“With semiautomatics.”

Michelle stepped away from the couple, took a burner phone from her back pocket, pressed a speed dial number, and said, “1 Beach 134th Street and Beach Channel Drive in Belle Harbor. Four men armed with semiautomatics. Make sure nothing happens to my children. If my children are injured, terminate the men with extreme prejudice.”

Walter turned to his wife and said, “We’re fucked.”

With a simple shrug of her shoulders, Mabel said, “We knew this day would come. The children knew it, too. But, I never expected the youngest grandchildren to become involved until they were older.”

Michelle returned to the living room. She pulled a Sig Sauer P229 from a holster in the small of her back. She reached for a strap around her ankle and removed a silencer. She wound it onto the threaded barrel and when it was seated, she just held the weapon by her side. All she did was stare into Mabel’s eyes. Every so often she would gaze into Walter’s eyes. Michelle could see that he was the submissive in their relationship. The questions that arose in her brain dealt with how Mabel raised her children. She had two sons and two daughters. It would be informative to hear Mabel’s take on how she raised them; but, that would have to wait. What was paramount was the freeing of her children. God help Mabel if anything happened to them.

Forty-seven minutes of total silence passed before Michelle’s burner phone rang. She flipped it open and listened. The only words she spoke, “The kidnappers?” A pause. “They really dropped their weapons upon your entry. Keep them that way. I want to speak with them.” A pause. “Check them medically, take them home, and feed them if they’re hungry. A Pause. Whatever they want.” Michelle’s gaze returned to Mabel. She lifted the Sig Sauer into a two-handed grip. Pointed it at Walter’s genitals and said, “You have exactly thirty seconds to tell me that you are going to give me everything concerning your child sex prostitution and trafficking ring. From the top to the bottom. You shake your head no and I will blow your husband’s cock and balls from between his legs. The time starts now.”

“My grandchild?” whined Mabel. “My grandchild?”

“When I know you are being completely honest and above board with me,” said Michelle, “I will give you what you want. Otherwise, your entire family will die a death worse than you threatened for my children. Twenty seconds.”

Mabel’s face screwed up into a sneer. Her eyes closed to a squint. She quickly looked at her husband to see him trying with all of his might to keep from pissing and shitting his in his pants. Out of nowhere, Mabel spat, “You got your little ones back bitch. FUCK YOU!!! YOU DO NOT HAVE THE BALLS TO PULL THE TRIGGER!!!”

The silencer kept the recoil of the Sig Sauer to a minimum. There was no loud pop of a semi-automatic being fired. All Mabel heard was the lower decibel pop of the silencer doing what it was designed to do. It took a moment for the woman to realize that the gun had been fired. She turned to her right and saw her husband’s head snapped back against the back of the sofa. Directly in the middle of his forehead just above the bridge of his nose was a single gunshot wound. When she rotated her body and saw her husband’s brains scattered on the back of the sofa she cried out, “NO-O-O!!! NO-O-O!!!”

“Guess I lied to you Mabel,” said Michelle. “You talk or your family dies in front of you. This room will be filled with bodies. The beauty of it all is that you will take the fall. The New York Police Department will charge you will multiple counts of first degree murder, pedophilia, and maiming of a corpse. Then the Federal Bureau of Investigation will step in, move you to federal jurisdiction, and you will be charged with multiple counts of producing and selling child pornography, sex trafficking, and prostitution of children. When you get to prison you will last but a few hours before the true criminals kill you for being a pedophile.”

Before Mabel spoke the true fear of her future became apparent. It became clear that she could not control her bladder. For the first time since she was a baby in diapers, Mabel Walter urinated where she sat. Embarrassed and humiliated, but still trying to maintain her strong personality, Mabel replied, “Just prove to me that if I talk, you will not hurt my family. What I know will fill several volumes. I have names and their code numbers. Protect me and my family and I will give you everything.”

“Prove it to me.”

“The sex trafficking operation is worldwide. It is impossible to point to a single individual or a cadre of individuals that are the brains behind the activities. The structure is not something you can say has a foundation and superstructure like a skyscraper. There is no corporate organization chart for the entire organization or the individual country organizations. Internal battles happen all the time. People are murdered so others can take over the operation in that country. I really do not. . .”

“Give me all of the Americans to start. Leave out one person and I will come back and begin the elimination of your family.”

“You are not going to release us?”

“Fuck no. What you are going to do is serve my needs. When and if I decide you have earned your freedom, it will come at a cost. That cost is living the rest of your life and your children’s lives as my indentured servants. None of your spawn will ever live in the lap of luxury again or procreate. The end of the Wagner family line is nigh. Am I making my point clear?”

“Give you what you need and live the rest of my life as a slave to you?”

“Succinct and to the point. But remember, one falsehood and I begin with the youngest surviving child. If your children are involved, they will have the same opportunity to save themselves, but I know they’re involved. Call it a sixth sense for finding and eliminating serial pedophiles The question I need answered is, did you abuse your children as they grew up and are they part of your sick lifestyle?”

“No,” spat Mabel.

The Sig Sauer moved ever so slightly and the bullet that exited the working end of the silencer penetrated the sofa cushion between Mabel’s legs. There was a prominent hole in her dress midway between her knees and her crotch.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.”

Truly frightened for her life, Mabel said, “Yes. They were abused from the moment they were born.”

“They continued their sickness with their own children?”

“Yes, but understand; they were taught to be the abusers not the abused. Our abuse was not painful or ugly. They learned sex was something to enjoy even if it was considered incestuous. Once they were old enough, they were brought into the sex trafficking fold where they learned to pick the weakest of the children, groom them, and be the first to abuse them. Then and only then were they sold on the open child slavery market.”

“At what age did that occur?”

Mabel hesitated before she spoke, “They were ten years old. They were still prepubescent.”

“You fuckin’ piece-of-dog-shit.”

Michelle’s burner phone rang. She released her two-handed hold on the Sig Sauer, retrieved the phone, and answered it. “Cover their faces with the black bags and bring them up.” Pause. “Do the same with them, but keep them downstairs until I call.” Michelle ended the call, replaced the phone in her rear pocket, and decided to test Mabel’s meddle. Two steps and she was directly in front of Mabel. With her right hand, she placed the working end of the Sig Sauer on the bridge of Mabel’s nose.

“Oh God!!! Please don’t kill me!!!” cried Mabel.

Before Michelle could respond, the elevator cab arrival tone sounded and the doors slid open. First out were two similarly armed men. They were followed by the adult Wagner children and their spouses. Each was bound around the waist with a chain, their wrists in handcuffs attached to by a small chain to the waist chain. Their ankles were bound by leg irons which were attached by a chain to their waists. They were only able to shuffle when they walked. Once they exited the elevator, the two remaining men stayed in the cab as the door closed.

“Move them to the wall on my right,” said Michelle. “Any of them do anything stupid, wound them. Do not terminate them.”

Once the adults were positioned, Michelle removed the pistol from Mabel’s forehead, and said, “Your children and their spouses saw what happened to the youngest of your grandchildren. They will see their father dead on the couch. You need to make them realize that their lives are no longer theirs. The only way they will live to an old age is to give me everything they know in detail. Then and only then will they earn the right to serve me as my indentured servants.” Michelle turned to the two men and said, “Uncover their heads.”

The eight adults blinked their eyes as the light of the room caused their pupils to contract. Their mouths were still held open by red ball gags. All of them were naked as the day they were born and their skin stank due to their uncontrolled urination. It was the youngest daughter who saw the body of her father sitting on the couch. She screamed and tried to free her hands from the handcuffs. It took another minute for her siblings and all the spouses to see why she was insane with anger. All of them knew she was Walter’s favorite. She responded by giving him what he always took from her. Whenever and wherever they were together, his youngest daughter would bend over, take his old cock up her ass, allow him to ejaculate, and then play the begging game until he was able to fill her cum coated rectum with his urine.

“Talk to them Mabel,” said Michelle.

She turned to her naked children and their spouses, took her husband’s dead and cooling hand into hers, and spoke with honor and authority, “I saw what happened. I am sorry to have allowed it to happen. Everything that has happened tonight is my fault. Alvin will be remembered and honored. To each and every one of you, I ask for your forgiveness. What will happen to each of us going forward, I have no control over...”

Michelle did not wait for an explanation. She pointed the Sig Sauer just to the right side of Mabel’s body and pulled the trigger. The children flinched together at the sound of the gun being fired. Mabel jumped landing partially on her did husband’s lap. She turned to Michelle and before she could answer, another bullet passed millimeters from her right ear. It grazed her skin. Blood ran from the wound. Mabel screamed, dropped her husband’s dead hand, and put hers to her bleeding ear. She did not say a word.

“Your mother is lying to each and every one of you,” said Michelle. “What she did tonight is the reason why you are here naked, bound, and gagged. Each and every one of you is going to tell me everything you know about the child sex trafficking ring you are involved with. You saw what happened to the youngest boy. His castration resulted in uncontrollable bleeding. He is dead. I will work backwards killing each and every one of your children. Then I will start with each of your spouses. Finally, I will kill the four of you. Your mother decided to kidnap my children in retribution for my exposing _Triple S_ Modeling and Talent Agency. Each and every one of you will speak to me and you will give me all of your knowledge. I know you live in this building. I will have my people rip apart your homes to find what I need. Failure to give me your knowledge will result in the torture of each of your children by skinning them alive. I am not one to fuck with. Your mother has unleased the Wrath of God and the Devil on this family. When I am done with you, you will become my indentured servants. Your life as you know it will not exist anymore. You will be dependent on my good will to live. One mistake and you will literally disappear off the face of the earth. Do I make myself clear?”

One of the men started to waggle his hands in an attempt to gain Michelle’s attention. Out of curiosity, she nodded to one of the guards to remove his ball gag. The mercenary knew better than to move far away from the man; so, he stepped to the individual to the man’s right. After several minutes of coughing and spitting, the man said, “I am the son of a sitting United States Senator. You do not have the authority to hold me or to cause these good people to suffer at your hands. I demand you let me go. Failure to do so will result in your imprisonment for the rest of your natural life. My father has that power.”

The smile on Michelle’s face was from ear-to-ear. She raised the Sig Sauer, pointed it at the man, and pulled the trigger. As she had done with Walter, a single bullet passed through the forehead of the man just above the bridge of his nose killing him instantly. His wife, the older of Mabel’s two daughters screamed and pissed where she stood after witnessing the cold indifferent murder of her husband. Everyone else stood stone still not wanting to lose their life.

“Have I made my point?” asked Michelle.

“In my bedroom and in each of my children’s bedrooms are floor-to-ceiling wall safes,” said Mabel. “They are controlled by biometrics. Retina and fingerprint scans. Inside each safe you will find the complete hardcopy, portable SSD drives, and thumb drives with the knowledge of the trafficking ring.” Mabel paused, rubbed her ear that had stopped bleeding, and said, “What you will find in the safes are what we have in our brains. We are required to write down everything. Just like the Nazis did during World War II. And, just to let you know, you just murdered Senator Valdez’s middle son. He was married to my eldest daughter.”

“If his son is involved,” said Michelle, “I believe his dad is too.” She pulled her burner phone from her pocket, physically dialed a number, and simply said, “Senator Valdez.”

“What did you fuckin’ do???” screamed Mabel.

“I just gave the senator’s name to people in my employ who will very quietly take him and his family to a secure place where he will be interrogated. The difference between you and him is the lack of choice on his part. He will be lied to so he will spill his guts. When and if he does spill his guts, he will not reap the reward of serving me to keep living. He will be the last of his family to die a horrible death.”

“I-I-I,” a pause and then Mable grabbed her chest, groaned, and fell over dead from a massive coronary.

“Alpha Three,” commanded Michelle, “get her fingers and eyeballs. I’ll need them to get into the biometric safe.”

The man moved to the sofa, pulled out a razor sharp k-bar knife. He held Mabel’s dead right hand, pulled it from her dead body, and with a single swipe of the knife, removed the hand from her arm at the wrist. He performed the same action on her left hand. The children were actively gesticulating trying to get the attention of the woman who apparently was in charge. When Alpha Three used the tip of the razor sharp k-bar to remove Mabel’s left eye, two of the Wagner children fell over in a dead faint. The removal of her right eye and the packaging of the hands and eyes were enough to get another Wagner child to vomit behind the red ball gag.

It was then Michelle turned to the Alpha Team member standing behind the adult Wagner children, pointed to the ones on the floor, and said, “Make sure they’re still breathing/” As he performed his duty, Michelle looked that the standing Wagner children and their spouses and said, “I am going to remove your gags. First one that speaks watches his children die. Keep quiet until spoken to. Understood?”

To a person, the Wagner siblings nodded their heads in the affirmative.

“The biometric keys are in the freezer,” said Alpha Three.

“Thanks,” said Michelle. “Help Four remove their gags.”

Michelle watched as the four Wagner siblings stood very still as the men removed their gags. To a person, they moved their jaws, licked their lips, but per Michelle’s command remained silent. There was a definite hierarchy of power among the siblings. The oldest using simple eye movements controlled the other three. From her vantage point, Michelle could ascertain the pecking order. The oldest male was the alpha among the group. The second born, a female was his lieutenant. The younger brother and sister proved their subservience by keeping their gaze downward. It surprised Michelle that both of them kept their gaze locked on a spot about six inches forward of their standing position. Their spouses were submissive to their spouse and the first born Wagner alpha male.

To keep them in line while she began her interrogation, Michelle made it a point to keep her Sig Sauer pointed at the individual she was questioning. Her conundrum was where to start. If she started with the youngest of the four, she may just give herself up and commit suicide by having Michelle kill her. Otherwise, the right move was to start with the oldest and move to the next youngest if she needed remove the impediment to her gaining the information that she needed. As she was pondering the correct course of interrogation, her burner phone rang.

She nodded to the men guarding the Wager children, turned, and stepped away from the group before answering the call.

“Michelle,” was all she said to the caller.

“Senator Valdez committed suicide before we could question him,” said the voice of the caller. “What do you want us to do with his wife, their son, and his family?”

””They all are involved,” stated Michelle. “Interrogate them. There should be a biometric safe in their houses. Get them open. Take all documents and digital storage units and have them delivered to warehouse. Do not hesitate to use whatever means necessary to get them to give up what they know. The next time you call you’d better have captured everything from them. Failure is not an option.”

“You know, I know my business,” said the voice. “It will be done.”

Michelle returned to the Wagner children and the three remaining spouses. She stared at them before speaking, “Senator Valdez committed suicide. He took the chicken’s way out. If you want to follow in his footsteps, then step forward and I will allow you to commit suicide. What you will learn is that it will take hours for you to die. There is no easy way out of what you’ve gotten into.”

Gunther, the oldest of the Wagner children, spoke without asking permission, “Who the fuck are you bitch?”

Before Michelle answered, she aimed her P229 at his crotch and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed millimeters just below his scrotum. “Let’s try to understand your position, Gunther. Your mother kidnapped my children thinking she would have the upper hand in getting that slime-ball Stephen Stewart Simmons returned to her. As you can see, she failed. I know you’re the alpha of your siblings. Kill the alpha and there is a better than ninety-five percent guarantee that they will fall in line. What I want from you, your siblings, and your spouses is simple. Open the safes in your apartments, give me everything inside, verbally tell me everything you know, and I will not make you watch the spawn of your loins suffer. I know you witnessed the emasculation of your youngest sister’s son. None of you are tough enough to mentally accept the torture of your children. I am your worse fuckin’ enemy and a complete fuckin’ nightmare.”

“How do I know you’ll allow us to live after giving up what we know?” asked Gunther.

With a smile on her face and a bit of softness to her voice, Michelle said, “You don’t. But, if I do let you live, you will live as my indentured servant. When I say you, I mean all of you.”

The youngest of the four, Klara, spoke, “I’d rather be dead that serve you in any capacity.”

Michelle did not immediately point her P229 at Klara. Instead, she stepped in front of the youngest Wagner and said, “Stick out your tongue.”

Klara locked her jaw and shook her head indicating she would not open her mouth.

“Fine,” said Michelle. She reached behind her back and produced a thin razor sharp double edged stiletto knife. Holding it in her right hand, she said, “Open your mouth or I will open it for you.”

Gunther growled, “Listen to her, Klara.”

The internal relationships between the Gunther children started to breakout into the open. Michelle was correct in her assumption of the pecking order of the children. But, under the present circumstances, things could and most likely would change. What intrigued her was the silence of the Wagner spouses. Michelle could only assume that their marriages were based on their own pedophilic desires. Knowing that Mila’s husband’s announcement that he was a senator’s son did nothing but get him killed, kept them from showing their fear. Each of them had accepted their sexual perversions and wanted nothing more than to survive the hell they were presently in.

Klara kept her mouth shut. The result was something none of the Gunther children and spouses expected. Michelle in one swift motion pushed the thin stiletto knife into Klara’s right cheek. As the pain made itself felt, Klara started to open her mouth to scream, when the knife transected her oral cavity and exited through her left cheek. Before Klara could react, Michelle grabbed the back of her head and pushed the knife towards the temporomandibular joint. The razor sharpness of the blade made it easy for Michelle to sever the joint causing Klara’s jaw to drop because she did not have the joint and muscles to keep her mouth closed. Michelle removed the knife from Klara mouth by pulling forward and severing the muscles of her cheeks. Before Klara could react, Michelle used her left hand to grab Klara’s tongue, pulled it as far as she could from her inoperable mouth, and cut it off. It was then she allowed Klara to fall to the floor bleeding from her severed jaw and tongue.

“Who is fuckin’ next?” asked Michelle

As she looked at the Wagner children, it pained her to see that Gunther, that alpha, had ejaculated enough to form a small pool in front of him as he watched his youngest sister being tortured. Mila swayed in pain as she witnessed the unbelievable use of the stiletto knife by the woman who held them captive. The third born child, Oskar could not hold his bladder. Between his legs was a fresh pool of urine. To a person, the spouses regurgitated bile as their stomachs were empty. They watched their tormentor rub the bloody knife on her pant leg before securing the weapon in its sheath behind her back.

“Please,” cried Mila. “Please help her. Don’t let her die. We’ll give you what you want.”

Gunther did not respond to his sister’s statement that they would give the bitch what she wanted. He stood tall, head up, and tried to project an air of Germanic superiority. Michelle wanted to castrate the bastard where he stood, but knew it would be better to humiliate him by having several men, black men, use his anus as their masturbation toy. The thought stayed in her mind for a bit longer than she would have considered if she was serious about letting any of them live.

“I am going to order my men to take you to your apartments,” stated Michelle. “There you will open the safes your mother spoke about. I know Klara’s husband has access, so if you’re smart you will not disobey my orders. Each of you will be returned here after the safes are opened and the documents secured. I will then decide what I am going to do with you.” Michelle waited a moment to see if any of the Wagner children would respond. When they did not, she said, “Alpha take them to their apartments. If either one or both of them make it difficult, terminate them.”

Seventeen minutes after sending the Gunther children to their respective apartments, every one of them returned without any additional pain being inflicted on them. They stood quietly knowing that the information gleaned by the crazy bitch would tear asunder the world’s largest child slavery and pedophilia ring. What made it worse for them, their family would forever be associated with the demise of an underground sexual playground that only the wealthiest and politically connected could join and survive in. When the covers come off the underground cabal of pedophiles, the pedophile priests of the Catholic Church will look like angels in comparison to the perverts inhabiting the hell of unbridled rape, torture, and murder of children.

Gunther was the first of the three remaining Wagner siblings to speak. He looked at Michelle and asked, “Would you consider giving Klara some help. It would benefit you in our eyes if you allowed us to say our good-byes before you terminated her. You took her only child and her husband is too much of a wimp to confront you. I’m asking knowing that I have but a few hours left.” He paused, looked at his siblings and their spouses, and said, “At least give our children a chance at redemption before you turn them into indentured servants.”

Michelle stood quietly looking at the adult Wagner children and their spouses. She went over to where Klara lay, put the silencer of her P229 against Klara’s temple, and asked, “If you want to die, nod your head.”

Klara was crazed with pain. She could not speak. She could only gurgle and try to keep from swallowing the blood flowing from her wounds. Her eyes were glazed over, but she understood what was said to her. Klara barely moved her head in a positive motion.

Michelle pulled the trigger.

Klara Wagner died instantly.

Gunther Wagner cried and then said, “I asked you politely if we could say our good-byes. It wasn’t as if we were planning to rise up against you. You’ve won. You’ve broken us. We standing here totally naked without shame waiting for you to end our lives. Not a single one of us will fight you. Just be kind and take care of our children. That is all we ask of you.”

“Really,” said Michelle. “You expect me to be kind to your spawn. They’re all steeped in the sickness of incest and pedophilia. You have no standing to ask me to care for children that have partaken in torture and murder.” Michelle stopped speaking for a few minutes as she looked at the four bodies. Mabel and Walter Wagner together in death on their expensive couch. Mila’s husband face down dead on the floor. Klara Wagner face mutilated lay on her side as if she were sleeping. “Take Klara’s husband into the kitchen. Keep the others under your watchful eye. They do anything stupid, terminate them with prejudice.”

Klara’s husband Michael stumbled into the kitchen. Michelle followed and stopped the Alpha Team member at the door. He understood that his boss could handle herself in case the weakling tried to become a hero. Michael stood in the middle of the kitchen totally scared and wishing he had the strength to keep form pissing on the floor a third time.. His thoughts went to his childhood. A time in his life he loved and hated. His father was a cuckold wimp. His mother was nothing more than a slut and whore for any man with a cock bigger than nine inches. His mother made him lick her dirty pussy when his father was unable to perform. At the tender age of five, he sucked cum from his mother’s just fucked pussy. By the time he was seven, he was being used by her lovers when she was unavailable as the preferred his tight young body to his broken father’s loose asshole. Once when he was ten years old, his mother gave him an opportunity to prove himself to be a man. She cajoled him to attempt to have coitus with her. When he entered her she laughed saying that she could not feel him inside her. His mother allowed him to attempt to fuck her for three minutes before she pushed him off of her and told him he was nothing but a loser sexually. Klara Wagner continued her abuse and humiliation of him; but, she did allow him to fornicate with her. The result was a male child. He groaned as he thought of how the boy was emasculated because of the Wagner family. Michael waited as his body shook from the stress and the fear.

“Michael Krauss,” said Michelle, “you know what you are. What I want from you is the truth. Hold nothing back and I will end your life quickly. Lie to me and you will suffer to the point where you will beg me to end your lousy life. I want to know everything.”

The frightened loser swayed where he stood. He tried to hold his body steady; but, it was a losing battle. He looked at Michelle with fear in his eyes and said, “May I sit down. I do not know if I can remain standing. Let me sit and I will give you everything that I know.”

“I’ll let you sit after you promise to hold nothing back,” said Michelle.

Michael Krauss did as she asked once he got comfortable on the hard seat of the oak breakfast table chair. He simply stated, “As you can see I am a sissy cuckold. My wife makes me wear this horrendous chastity device. All of my wife’s siblings and spouses know what I am. My father was a sissy cuckold before me. Klara was to me what my mother was to my father. What do you want to know?”

“Jesus,” said Michelle. “If you’re nothing but a cuckold and a sissy faggot to boot, how did you get off with children?”

Looking at the floor and totally forgetting about sitting, Michael replied, “I did not have traditional sex with the children. I was the family member responsible for cleaning just used pussies and assholes. For some sick reason, they did not like to have intercourse with a dirty orifice I never once put my penis into a child. My sole reason for living was to serve Klara and perform as she commanded.”

“Did you ever suck cock for her?”

“All the time. I can say with total assurance that I have sucked the cocks of many a politician, industrialist, move actor, and a few clergymen.”

“Take it up the ass?”

“Most assuredly. When Klara was not in the mood to fuck someone, I was their alternative.”

“What about your brother-in-law? Did you willing service him?”

Michael paused, took a deep breath, exhaled, and then said, “Only on the down low. If his wife ever found out he was using me, she would have broken their vows by fucking a black man. The Wagner’s were proud racists and blacks and Jews were nothing to them.”

“So, if I bring his wife in now and tell her, what do you thinks she would do?”

“I cannot imagine what she would do,” said Michael. “If she knew her life was over, I would bet that she would beg you to allow one of your black team members to fuck her in front of Gunther. In fact, I would bet she would want to die as he ejaculated into her superior German fuck hole. Gunther would be beyond livid.”

“One last question,” said Michelle, “is there anything inserted in your behind?”

Michael closed his eyes, turned around, and bent over. Twinkling between the globes of his ass was a large cubic zirconia diamond. He waited a minute before standing upright and turning back to Michelle.

“How do you want to die?” asked Michelle.

“I don’t want to die,” said Michael. “I want to serve you. I will accept any and all humiliations. I am a loser; but, I do bring to the table a complete retinue of subservient activities to make any male or female sexually stimulated and satisfied. I only wish to be able to crawl to you and profess my undying love as one of your most trusted slaves.”

Michelle left him standing without an answer. She turned to the Alpha Team member and said, “Bring Gunter’s wife in.”

Fighting from the moment he told her to go to the kitchen, Kristen Wagner made it harder on herself by trying to stand up for the family. She was a complete narcissist that only thought about herself and no one else. Her husband was the only person on the face of the earth that could control her. Her life changed completely when she birthed the last of their three children. From the moment her youngest son passed through the opening of her vagina, she made it known that nothing would stop her from getting her body back to the shape it was in prior to birthing three children. Kristen screamed and fought the Alpha Team member only to lose her battle. The six foot six inch mercenary picked her up by the scruff of her neck and her crotch and literally tossed her into the kitchen. She landed on the floor with a thud that forced her to lose her breath.

Taking advantage of her inability to breathe, Michelle used her right foot to roll the now very frightened woman onto her back. To maintain control of the pedophile bitch, Michelle pressed her right foot onto her neck decreasing her ability to breathe. As the pressure subsided and Kristen could regain breathing, Michelle said, “Your brother-in-law told me you’re quite the ball-buster. Michael told me you love to crush little boy’s balls. He said you get off on hearing their high pitched screams. In fact, he told me you especially love to butt fuck them with a very special dildo. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I-I-I,” was all she could say. Her muscles began to tighten in fear and stress. Her breathing became labored even though Michelle’s foot was not pressing down on her throat.

“I said no such thing,” moaned Michael. “You fuckin’ liar!!!”

“One more word out of you and I will stuff a hand grenade up your ass, pull the pin, and watch you explode,” growled Michelle.

Kristen began to plead, “Please don’t kill me. I will tell you everything about the Wagner family and the people involved in the pedophile ring. It is worldwide. There isn’t a country that doesn’t have a chapter of pedophiles that are part of the cabal. The information in the safes is but only the tip of the iceberg. Each and every one of us has details that will open more doors into the cabal. Senator Valdez is only one of many politicians that take part in the sexual perversion of children. Please, just let me live and I will give you more than the key to the hell that is the pedophile kingdom.”

Disgusted by the woman lying prone on the floor feeling safe at finally expressing her options to be allowed to live, Michelle pushed her fifty year old legs apart and with as much force as she could muster, planted the steel toe of her combat boot directly onto Kristen’s vagina. Not giving the woman a chance to recover, Michelle continued to kick Kristen’s crotch until one of the labia burst. Blood oozed from the rip. Michelle knelt next to Kristen’s head and said, “You have one chance to die a quick death. Give me the key to Gunther’s sexual deviance and I promise you will die quickly. Fuck with me and I will make you watch your children suffer at the hands of a master torturer. Your call bitch.”

Breathing hard, Kristen groaned between breaths, “Gunther loves the feeling of a child’s anus around his cock. Doesn’t matter if it is a girl or a boy. He revels in ripping their bowels open and seeing their blood ooze out around his cock and onto his balls. He has fierce ejaculations especially when the tormented child is very young.”

“How fuckin’ young?” demanded Michelle.

Kristen Wagner screamed just before she said, “I’ve seen him sexually abuse a new born. The mother watched as the doctor cut the umbilical cord and handed the child to my husband. His eyes were wide and he laughed when he saw the look on the mother’s face. In front of her, he pressed his erection into the newborn’s anus. The resulting scream was music to his ears. The mother had a heart attack and died on the table. The child lasted but five minutes before succumbing to the anal rape as Gunther’s cock ripped the child’s insides apart. What was even sicker was my husband then fucking the dead mother’s ass as he held the baby over her dead face.”

“And, you stood there and watched,” stated Michelle, not really asking Kristen a question.

“Yes,” moaned Kristen in emotional and psychological pain. “I watched and masturbated. I orgasmed as I thought what it must feel like having a hard cock inside a newborn’s asshole.”

The sound of the silencer resounded around the room. A single bullet passed through Kristen’s head just above the bridge of her nose. She was dead before her brain could comprehend its end.

“Bring Gunther’s sister in here,” yelled Michelle. Her blood was boiling as she learned more about how sick the family was. A newborn. Not even hours old and Gunther Wagner murdered the baby with his cock.

Mila Wagner did not hide her fear very well. She tried to portray herself as a strong Arian when it was plainly apparent that she was scared shitless especially when she saw here dead sister-in-law. To try and prove her mettle she said to Michael, “What the fuck did you do to Kristen? You’re nothing but a fuckin’ cocksuckin’ faggot, bitch boi.”

“Enough,” said Michelle in a measured tone.

“FUCK YOU,” said Mila. “You are not my better. You should kneel and suck my superior cunt.”

It wasn’t a matter of timing, but one of knowing she really did not need to hear Mila’s tale of superiority and child sexual abuse. Michelle smiled, pointed her P229 at Mila, and pulled the trigger twice. The first bullet entered Mila’s body crushing her pubic bone. The second bullet entered four millimeters to the left of her belly button. The round tumbled ripping her intestines into shreds. The abdominal wound released the contents of her large intestines and bowel into her abdomen. Her death would be slow and very painful.

Mila Wagner groaned and fell to the floor trying to hold her intestines inside her body. Blood began to ooze from her mouth as her breathing became labored. The shock of being shot began to wear off and the pain began to wane as she stared at the ceiling wondering how long it would take for her to expire.

“You are going to last a long time,” said Michelle. “I have crushed your pubic bone. I have ripped apart your intestines. The worst wound a human being can suffer is an abdominal wound. The contents of the bowel infects the abdomen. Death is slow and very painful. I will help you end the suffering by answering one question. Who is the titular leader of the pedophile cabal in this country?”

The room began to spin for Mila. She could not concentrate on anything but the feeling of dread that took over her being. Her breathing was labored, but she was still alive. The question was asked and understood in the fog of her pain and suffering. Mila knew she would not live beyond answering the question. If she answered, she may just possibly save Gunther, Oskar, and Jennifer, Oskar’s wife. “If I tell you, you’ll let my brothers live?”

“Sure, I’ll give you your dying wish,” said Michelle knowing that she was lying through her teeth.

Mila took a deep breath, coughed up blood, and finally said, “Richard Nathan Weinstein. The president of Casino Partners International. He presently holds the rest of the members under his control.”

“Thank you,” said Michelle. A single bullet passed through Mila’s forehead just above the bridge of her nose. She looked up and said to the Alpha team member, “Bring Gunther to me.”

Not much made Michelle stand in aware of an individual’s stupidity when confronted with the strong possibility of losing their life; but she was astounded to hear Gunther scream and fight the Alpha team member when he was told to go into the kitchen. It took but a few minutes before the Alpha team member dragged a kicking and screaming Gunther into the kitchen by his hair. When the hold was released by the Alpha team member, Gunther tried to gain control on his situation. He lost when Michelle’s boot made contact with the side of his head. Gunter Wagner was unconscious. For Michelle, it gave her time to interrogate the remaining two Wagner family members.

“Bring Oskar and Jennifer into the kitchen,” said Michelle.

Jennifer Wagner did not argue or try to fight being pushed into the kitchen. The Alpha team member placed the working end of his M4 carbine to the back of her neck and pressed forward. Oskar Wagner tried to negotiate his way out of his family’s predicament as he followed his wife and the Alpha team member into the kitchen. The Alpha team member behind him did not speak as he pressed the silencer of his M4 between Oskar’s shoulder blades.

“NO-O-O!!!” cried Jennifer upon seeing the bodies of her bothers-in-law and sisters-in-law. When she saw Michael standing still naked without any marks on his body, she spat, “You fuckin’ piece of dog shit!!! How is it you’re still alive?” When Michael began to answer, she spat, “Don’t even try to explain. I know you sold yourself to that bitch!!!”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” growled Michelle.

“What did you do to Gunther?” asked Jennifer.

“He is unconscious from a well-placed kick to his head. His status is of no concern to you,” said Michelle. “What I want to know is how you were brought into the family’s business of abusing children?”

For some unknown reason, Jennifer looked to her husband for permission to answer Michelle’s question. The woman was displaying her submissiveness to her husband. When Oskar did not respond verbally or by nodding his head, she remained silent. Inside she was cringing at what could, no would, happen to her for not answering. Instead she heard another question asked of her.

“Are you willing to watch up close and personal the suffering of the Wagner children because you are too fuckin’ stupid to answer my questions?” said Michelle.

Jennifer became unglued as she saw blood seeping from the bodies of her bothers-in-law and sisters-in-law. She fell to her knees and began to regurgitate, urinate, and defecate all at the same time. Michelle knew she was going to be totally useless when it came to getting any level of information from her. As the woman knelt on the floor vacating her bodily fluids, Michelle added her life sustaining liquid when she slit her throat from ear-to-ear. Blood spewed from the open wound and thankfully for Jennifer, she expired in seconds after her carotid arteries were severed.

“You’re third born,” said Michelle. She was calm and focused which added to Oskar’s fear. “As the second son, were you given any authority growing up? Or, for that matter as an adult?”

His stare was hard; but, he legs betrayed his fear. Oskar thought better of trying to negotiate his way out of his looming doom. He said, “As a proud man of German ancestry, he stood tall and said, I am and will always be the second in command of the Wagner family after my brother. When Gunter was not available, I was the go to person. My sisters had no decision making authority. They were proud German women who knew their place and in their own homes controlled their husbands and offspring.”

Michelle laughed in Oskar’s face. “I suggest you temper your German superiority attitude and give me what I want. I may just let you live. Albeit in a male brothel sucking and taking cock up your superior German ass. What I want from you is the methodology the family used to make contact with Richard Nathan Weinstein.”

Oskar frowned and asked, “Who is that?” He knew very well who Richard Nathan Weinstein is to the pedophile cabal.

The bullet passed by Oskar’s right ear. It creased the skin just enough to make it bleed. The other liquid that departed his body was forming a large pool between his superior German scared as shit legs. The only other sound that Michelle heard was Michaels’ groan of pain as he witnessed another of his wife’s family member being tortured without really being touched by another man. A very strong woman was the center of the breaking down of the Wagner family.

“Do you want to continue to fuck with me Oskar?”

“You fuckin’ killed my parents, my sisters, and a youngster who had nothing to do with anything except to be a member of the Wagner family. You don’t fuckin’ scare me bitch. I bet you don’t even know what it means to have an alpha cock up your cunt. GO FUCK YOURSELF!!!”

“How many children do you have?”

“Why?”

“Because I intend to make you watch up close and personal as I take from them their lives, just as I know you’ve done to countess unknown children. To make it even more painful, they will see you standing next to them as they are made to feel the excruciating pain of being fileted alive. You saw what happened to your youngest sister’s son. He is alive; but, without his cock and balls. What I want from you is the communications methodology used the by the members of the cabal.”

Before he could answer, Gunther groaned and awoke from his unconscious state. His hands tried to go to his temples as he tried but failed to reduce the pounding pain that beat within his head. Giving any information about making contact with the top of the pyramid would definitely result in expulsion and ultimate death. What this bitch named Michelle did not know was the depth and breadth of the mercenaries at the command of the pedophile cabal. The other aspect of the inner workings of the membership was how they would react to the suicide death of the Senator. They would close ranks, stop all activities, and wait until it was ripe to restart. If they had to wait for years, they would. Only the superrich would have the ability to continue to buy and sell children to satisfy their aberrant sexual proclivities.

“Leave my brother alone,” said Gunter.

“Gunther,” said Oskar, “she killed Jennifer. Slit her throat from ear-to-ear. She did not give her a chance. FUCKIN’ BITCH MURDERED HER IN COLD BLOOD!!!”

Where it came from, Michelle did not know; but. Gunther rolled to his side, rose to his knees, and screamed at his younger brother, “SHUT YOUR FUCKIN’ MOUTH, OSKAR. USE YOUR FUCKIN’ BRAIN FOR A MOMENT. WE’RE FUCKIN’ DEAD NO MATTER HOW YOU LOOK AT IT. GIVE HER WHAT SHE WANTS. MAKE YOUR DEATH EASY AND NOT HARD. BE A MAN. DON’T BE LIKE MICHEAL. YOU’RE NOT A COCKSUCKER. GIVE HER WHAT SHE WANTS.”

Oskar turned to Michelle and said, “I do not know how to contact Mr. Weinstein. All communications went through my mother or Gunther. I know names and locations; but, I never originated contact with Mr. Weinstein.”

“How do you want to die?” asked Michelle.

Oskar’s simple answer was, “Quickly.”

“Fuck you Oskar,” said Michelle as she stepped close to the third born Wagner. Her K-bar entered his abdomen on his left side. She pulled across slicing him from right-to-left opening his abdomen. His hands went to his stomach. He screamed and fell to the floor. Nothing he could to would stop his intestines from tumbling out of his body. Blood spirted from the severed arteries. He lay on the floor waiting to die as he knew it would not happen quickly.

“What do you want from me?” asked Gunther.”

“First, I want to know how you make contact with Weinstein. Then I want to know how you feel about fuckin’ your wife after a big black cock had just fucked her,” said Michelle.

“A black cock never entered my wife’s body,” growled Gunther.

“Michael,” commanded Michelle, “tell Gunther how you helped hide from him his wife’s infidelity with well-hung low-life niggers.” When the faggot did not answer, she yelled, “Tell him or I will not grant your request!!!”

Michael knew he had to lie and lie convincingly, “When you were away on business, Gunther, I would make contact with the low-life black men that were known to prefer fuckin’ white women. Your wife loved the feeling of their cocks down her throat, in her cunt, and up her ass. She would laugh when they were done and say how much she loved knowing you were fuckin’ a defiled woman. Gunther, your wife hated your fuckin’ guts.”

The great German man fell to his side, pulled his knees to his chest, and slipped his arms over them to maintain a fetal position. He rocked on his side and cried like a newborn. His pure Arian world was torn from his soul. Even though she lay on the floor dead, she was ripping his soul from his body. For as long as he lived, he would never forgive her or acknowledge she was his wife. Although it was presently out-of-the-question, he vowed that if he survived, he would wash his body with the most acidic solvent to remove the stain of his wife’s infidelity.

Michelle stepped over to Michael, placed her mouth close to his right ear, and whispered, “You just gave yourself the possibility of not dying. But, do not let it go to your head.” She stepped over to where Gunther lay on the floor, kicked him, and said, “Stand the fuck up. Do not make me have to use physical pain to get you to comply.”

Upon standing, Gunther said, “I know what you want. I will give it to you. What are you going to do with me?”

“I am going to keep you alive, Gunther,” said Michelle. “I am going to need you to facilitate contact with Weinstein. If Weinstein does not give me the keys to the kingdom, you will be responsible contacting everyone below him. And, you will without question help me with any other activity I need to accomplish with which you can help.”

“Beyond giving you a method to contact Mr. Weinstein, how are you going to make or force me to comply?”

“I am going to insert into your body a small capsule of highly radioactive material. When you are stupid enough to deny me what I want, I will send a signal to the device. It will expose the radioactive material. Your death will be agonizingly slow and painful. The beauty of this endeavor is no pathologist or coroner will know how to figure out how you were exposed. If you want to know what you will go through, just Google the pictures of the Chernobyl workers who died from radiation poisoning.

“Bullshit,” said Gunther. “Not possible.”

Michelle looked at the Alpha team member closest to her, nodded without saying a word, and he departed the kitchen. Nothing was said between Gunther and Michelle until he returned five minutes later. In his left hand was a leather syringe case. He handed to this his boss. Michelle unzipped the leather case, opened it, and showed the contents to Gunther. “Fuck with me and I will knock you out. When you awaken, you will have a small puncture wound on your body. It will be a bit painful; but, it will quickly subside. The choice is yours.”

“Fuck you bitch,” was his response.

Michelle cold-cocked Gunther. She then used the syringe to immobilize Gunther. She turned to the Alpha team member and said, “Take the children to the safe house, make them comfortable, and make sure they are watched over by the support crews. Then clean the animatronic child dummy and pack it away. I have this gut feeling we are going to need it again. Contact the clean-up crew to make this place whole again. Have the locks changed on this and the children’s condominiums. We may be able to use any or all of them again in the future. Take Michael and Gunther to the warehouse site. Cage them and keep them sedated until I arrive.”

“How long?” asked the Alpha team member.’

“I don’t know,” replied Michelle. “It should be no longer than a few days.”

“As you wish,” said the Alpha team member.


	7. Mid-Morning, Wednesday, May 22, 2019 – Private Estate, Old Brookville, NY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michelle secures take over of Wager assets, begins search for RNW, and has interlude with Bridgette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Michelle was tired and wanted nothing more than to see her children and hold them in her arms. Her fatigue would dissipate once she arrived at home, cleaned-up, and had them in her arms. From the moment she left the warehouse, she did not make an effort to see if the news media had picked up on the missing Wagner family. Once she had showered, dressed, and taken care of her children she would set up one of her computers to keep a constant watch on all of the world’s news feeds to see if anything hit the wires. The Wagner family was known well enough to cause a bit of a stir if all of the family members were suddenly gone. The death of the Senator was taken care of by a single phone call as she drove home. He and his family were killed in a freak private airplane accident over the Atlantic Ocean. There were no survivors and no wreckage was found. She turned into her private lane and relaxed when she saw parked on either side of the road the two custom Humvees that would be on the property for the foreseeable future.

Pulling into the open space around her house, she immediately turned to the building that had ten single garage doors and one double garage door. Inside the garage, behind the ten garage doors were two everyday sedans. Behind the eight other doors were a collection of super cars with Ferrari being the largest number of cars. Michelle was an accomplished Formula One type driver. When her husband found out about her passion, he gladly fed it because he saw how much she loved the danger and the intellectual and physical needs to drive at speeds approaching three hundred miles an hour. The single double garage door was controlled by a special custom designed and manufactured electronic device she now held in her hand.

A single touch of the hidden fingerprint reader began the process of opening the garage door. The door looked like any residential garage door; but, for those in the know, it was a solid steel explosion proof protection device. Once the door was fully opened, Michelle drove the GMC Yukon XL into the building. Once she crossed the threshold and the sensors imbedded around the door frame read that the vehicle was entirely in the building, the door close and lock procedures were activated. By rote memory, Michelle placed the vehicle precisely on the hidden wheel sensors embedded into the concrete. The motor controlling the lift was silent to any other person; but, to Michelle it was a low hum informing her that the vehicle was about to descend into the secure basement of the garage. The lift lowered the vehicle in a matter of seconds. On her handheld device two lights went from red to green, which informed Michelle it was clear to pull the vehicle off of the lift.

All of the vehicles in the secure basement were parked in a manner that allowed them to have at least six feet of space around them. Each served a purpose; but, one hundred percent of them were rolling armories. Bullet proof, explosion proof, and armed to the teeth. She placed the GMC Yukon XL in its parking spot, unloaded the black duffle bag from the rear, and made her way to a specialized area of the basement. The area consisted of three rooms. The initial entry room was where all weapons were secured. Only one of the myriad of weapons was kept loaded. The second room was a specialized decontamination area. Michelle removed her clothing, stepped into the shower, and waited for the sensors to begin the twelve minute session of decontamination. When she exited the shower she was clean and dry. The last room had armoires of clothing. There were an equal amount of storage for her and her husband. Since his murder, she could not make herself remove his stored apparel. Every place else she cleaned away all remnants except for the photographs that adorned the walls and bureaus of the house. Michelle put on a pair of Levi jeans, a man-tailored denim shirt, and a pair of black-on-black New Balance running shoes.

The elevator from the basement garage opened into the mudroom on the side of the house closest to the garage. The door was expertly hidden in the wall. The pneumatic door opened and silently closed. Michelle stepped into the hallway that lead to kitchen. Upon entering, she saw Bridgette sitting at the breakfast table. The young woman survived one of the worst battles the United States fought in Afghanistan. She was one of the first group of eighteen women who were allowed to attempt Seal Training. Only six women survived the training and she was one of them. The Navy Department was loathe to give her what she deserved when it appeared she would graduate BUDS first in the class. Instead of making waves, Bridgette accepted second place and proceeded to knock the proverbial shit out of every Seal she trained against. The Afghanistan battle left her scarred and the death of four of her team broke her spirit. She sunk down the PTSD hole and ended up living drug addled and on the streets of New York City.

Michelle walked to the breakfast table, Bridgette stood, and the two women hugged. Bridgette owed Michelle her life; but, Michelle would not stand for any of that _‘I owe you bullshit’_. Michelle found the broken female Navy Seal hunched over a garbage can on Eleventh Avenue scrounging for anything viable to eat. Her red hair was scraggly and extremely knotted. Her face was dirty; so dirty one could not see the spread of freckles on her face. There was a deadness in her eyes; but, the color could not be hidden. Bridgette was a fair porcelain skinned woman with bright ginger hair, freckles, and the bluest of blue eyes flecked with golden streaks. Physically and mentally she was a mess. Living on the streets was taking a toll on her. It took Michelle twenty-three minutes to break Bridgette’s self-imposed defenses and another twenty minutes to get her to accompany her to her loft apartment in the SoHo section of Lower Manhattan. Another thirty-five minutes passed before Michelle could get Bridgette into a hot shower and fresh clothing. Thankfully, Michelle’s two inch height difference did not stop Bridgette from wearing her borrowed clothing as if it was custom made for her. The effect on the girl was considerable. She cleaned-up very well and although she was not wearing any make-up, Michelle could see her natural beauty shining through. The hot meal Michelle served both of them opened the doors to conversation, the lowering of Bridgette’s guard, and to the establishment of a relationship that nothing could break asunder.

“The children,” stated Michelle.

“They’re probably in the game room,” said Bridgette. “I kept them occupied as much as I could each day until bedtime. They naturally fought me because you were not home. They were more than curious about where you were and when you were coming home. A little cajoling and the possibility of something special in the morning, gave Constance and Charlie enough future reward to go to bed. Naturally, both of them demanded I tuck them in.”

Michelle nodded and saw the look of concern in Bridgette’s eyes.

“Everything is fine,” said Michelle. “”Except, eight out of ten individuals are no longer breathing. The children are safe; but, it is going to take a very long time to undo what was done to them physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Enough of that. I need to see the children.”

Bridgette stepped close and asked a simple question, “When?”

Michelle touched her face, smiled, and said, “I told you when I felt you were ready, you would return to operational status. Right now, Constance and Charlie are the center of your operational world. God forbid something happened and you needed to defend them, I know in my heart-of-hearts, they would be safe even if you had to give the ultimate sacrifice to keep them out of harm’s way. I want you to know that you were chosen because I trust you implicitly. Based upon what I have started, I know when I leave you alone with them I am secure in the knowledge the best operator is protecting them.”

“Thank you, ma’am” said Bridgette.

Michelle took Bridgette by her hand and together they walked to the game room. They entered and stood waiting. It was Bridgette who let the children know their mother was home by saying loudly, “Look who’s here!!!”

As if they were tied at the hip, the twins rose, and made a beeline for their mother. Their second sense and knowledge of each other’s need to be on a specific side of their mother made their approach a study in intuition and comedy. Constance when to her mother’s right side and Charles to her left. Michelle braced herself for the uncontrolled assault of her loving children. Nothing, except the feel of her husband inside her body, could top the grasp of her children as they expressed their love for their mother.

She bent over and kissed each of them on their cheeks. She rubbed their heads as she said, “Tomorrow you return to school. I will have Bridgette call to get your homework. Then once everything is back to normal, you’ll allow her to return to her duties. I have some work I need to get accomplished by myself. Then I’ll join you here and we can play some games. Ok?”

Both children removed their arms from around their mother’s legs, jumped, and crowed, “Yay!!! Game time with mommy!!!”

“Bridgette, I’ve changed my mind,” said Michelle. “Please stay with them. What I have to do may take longer than I suspect.”

“Yes, ma’am. You will call me if you need me?”

“Absolutely,” said Michelle as she turned and walked to the other side of the house.

\-------------------------

The sensory deprivation chamber was her first stop. She peered through the small porthole window and saw that Stephen was still floating peacefully. Her only concern was when the doctor would schedule his emasculation. She needed him to be totally sexless for the next steps of her operation. Without making a sound she climbed the steps to the hallway that would lead to her to the area of the house that was built to block all electronic eavesdropping and maintain a tight control on all computer and Internet access. She thought about having an alcoholic beverage; but, tabled it because she had not eaten anything since yesterday evening. Her stomach was talking to her, so, a quick text message to Bridgette and she knew a quality meal would be delivered. Michelle entered the room and closed the door behind her. She heard the pneumatic locks slam shut and then she went to the alcove, pressed the hidden button on the right side just inside the jamb, and stood waiting for the rear wall to rise exposing her electronics.

She used the left most computer to open a window and begin a worldwide search for any printed, radio, television, and digital media about the Wagner family. A second window did the same for the Senator. The search on the death of the Senator was unnecessary; but, she never took anything or anyone for granted. She watched the programs work for a few minutes before she turned to her next task.

Richard Nathan Weinstein was her next target. According to the Wagner family, he was the titular head of the pedophile cabal in the United States. Her training made her write a new Python program from scratch. Finding people was simple when you knew how to go about it. The key was performing the gathering of the information without anyone knowing, stopping, or tracing your activities. It would be easy for her to clone a search program, change some parameters, and run it. The one time during her training she did just that, modified an existing program. It resulted in her program being taken over by a friendly hacking group and turned against her. Exactly seventy minutes after her test program started the entire class knew she was busted. From that moment on, she always wrote and executed virgin programs.

Since she had to do a worldwide search and capture every piece of public and private data about RNW, the program took forty-three minutes to write, test, and begin its execution. Watching the center monitor, Michelle could see that collecting data on RNW was going to take the rest of the day and continue through the night. She pushed back from the table, stood, and departed the room. Just as she exited and pressed the hidden button, Bridgette used the codes to unlock the main door to the room and entered with a small rolling table.

“A meal is served,” said Bridgette.

“Where are the children?” asked Michelle

Michelle frowned, put a questioning look on her face, and said, “They’re in the game room. Playing whatever games a seven-year-old plays. I know you know where they are.”

“I do,” replied Michelle. “Let’s leave here for the main family room. I really should not be eating in this room.”

Michelle led the way with Bridgette following behind with the small rolling table. Once they entered the room, Michelle stepped to the bar, leaned over, and pressed the button that would lock the door and windows to the huge room. She came back to Bridgette, put her hands on her arms, and said, “I cannot wait any longer.” With that said, Michelle pulled Bridgette into her body, wrapped her arms around her waist and shoulders, and kissed her on her lips.

For a second, Bridgette was taken by her employer’s obvious sexual intentions. Most men and a lot of women believed military women were more lesbian than heterosexual. Bridgette was just a slight bit different. As much as she liked a good man between her legs and inside her, she learned at a relatively early age that having sexual relations with another woman was something she could get into. Her sexuality did not fall to one side of the hetero/lesbian line. Growing up, through high school, college, and the military she could count on one hand the number of sexual encounters she’d had with other women. Faced with a conundrum she did not want deal with, Bridgette responded to the kiss and immediately broke the embrace.

“Ma’am,” said Bridgette, “I do not know if this is going to be a good thing. Starting a sexual relationship with you could break our working relationship and bond. And, make it difficult to willingly come here to care for the children much less when activated put my life on the line for you.” The reconstituted Navy Seal looked away, down, and then directly into her employer’s eyes, and said, “I love you so much. I’ve loved you from the first day you took me into your home and your life. I love your children. I am sad at what happened to your husband. From what I’ve learned, he did not deserve to be murdered.” Again she paused keeping eye contact with Michelle. An intake of breath and an exhale definitely did not cease to contain the open sadness on her face, “I’m sorry I said anything about your husband. But, please do not ask me to do something I’ve masturbated about every day since I became part of your family and work. I know if we become intimate, we’ll lose everything we’ve built. I am not opposed to sleeping with you. I know I would enjoy it immensely.” Bridgette stepped back and said with a tone of finality, “I will not do anything to ruin our relationship. Period.”

Astounded at Bridgette’s reaction, Michelle smiled, stepped close enough to touch Bridgette’s face, and said, “Know and understand, I did not want to hurt you. I wanted to feel you in my arms. I apologize for coming on to you.” With that, Michelle returned to the bar and unlocked the doors and windows.

Bridgette setup the meal on one of the coffee tables situated around the room. She held out her hand to her employer and said, “Sit and eat. I am not opposed to talking to you about what just happened.”

Michelle sat and saw a perfectly grilled New York Strip steak, baked potato, and green beans on her plate. A half bottle of Chateau St. Emilion Bordeaux wine sat, opened, and waiting to be poured. She smiled, nodded her head at Bridgette, and said, “Thank you for the meal’ but, I was hoping for some fish.”

The innuendo was heard and processed by Bridgette. “My god, what has gotten into you? Have you always harbored a latent lesbian attitude?”

“I will answer your question; but, I have to ask one first. Do you know why I started doing what I do now?”

“Truthfully, no,” replied Bridgette.

Michelle started by pouring a glass of wine, savoring its smell, and tasting it before taking a big gulp of the beautiful flavored wine. She cut a piece of the steak, put it in her mouth, and chewed it until it was masticated enough for her to swallow. While eating for the next fifteen minutes, Michelle do not tell Bridgette what she said she would. When half of the meal was gone, she refilled her wine glass, sat back on the love seat, and said, “When I was five years old my father used to come into my room, uncover me, masturbate, and ejaculate onto the palm his other hand. I know because I faked being asleep while at the same time being scared shitless. By the time I was seven, he would cum on my belly. On my ninth birthday, he got into bed with me and took my virginity. For the next three years, he preferred to have sex with me instead of my mother. It all stopped when I hit puberty and my hairless vagina was no longer bare.”

Dumfounded, Bridgette asked, “What did your mother say or do?”

“Nothing. She played dumb. She did not have the strength to make him stop even when he allowed his friends to abuse me. And, when I say friends, I mean men, women, teenage boys, and teenage girls.”

At a loss for words, Bridgette sat open-mouthed. All she could do was stare at her employer.

“Please forgive me, Bridgette,” said Michelle. “I murdered eight individuals last night, in cold blood…”

Bridgette started to respond when Michelle held up her right hand palm out to stop her.

“They deserved everything they got. I just needed something to help ameliorate what has turned into a bit of a sexual desire. I have not had coital sex with a man since my husband died. There is a mid-fifty year old doctor I know and platonically love that I masturbate to conclusion. It is a game we play; but, nothing will ever replace my husband.”

Regaining her ability to communicate, Bridgette said, “But, why me?”

“Because I’ll admit to falling in love with you. Albeit, from afar,” said Michelle. “When I saw you tonight, I just wanted to hold you. Kiss you. And, if you were willing to let me, go down on you. I did not want to hide my desire for you anymore.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” said Bridgette. “You know if we start a sexual relationship, I will have to leave your employ. We’ll be lovers. You need to think about your children. What will they say? Even better, will you want to keep our relationship a secret? From them? From everyone?” Bridgette paused, thought a second, and said, “I do not want a secret relationship with you. If I am going to step up and commit to a lesbian relationship, I want it out in the open. Otherwise, I will be content to masturbate thinking about you and if I happen to have a man between my legs, I will fantasize about you having a cock, albeit an ersatz one, fucking me. Even the thought of a one night stand is not something I want with you.”

“Understood. But, if I lock the doors and windows again, would you consider sitting across from me and masturbating? I would so enjoy watching you pleasure yourself.”

“Fuck me…”

“Well?”

“I can’t. If I am going to be intimate with you, it will be all or nothing.”

“Understood. I hope this will not endanger our personal and working relationship.”

“Not in the least. Knowing what I know now gives me reason to protect you and your children with everything I have to give up to and including my life.” Bridgette stood, stepped from the sitting area, and said as she backed to the doors, “I’ll clean up later. Take care of what you need to do. Constance and Charlie need you.”

When Bridgette departed the room, Michelle opened her jeans, pulled them down to her knees, and masturbated thinking about how sweet it would have been to be between Bridgette’s legs. In the middle of her second masturbation session, one of the computers sent a tone to her iPhone informing her that something important had been found. Micelle made the choice to finish diddling herself to a second gut wrenching orgasm. Seven minutes after sliding her vaginal fluid covered fingers into her mouth so she could taste her juices, Michelle stood, pulled up her panties, jeans, and made her way to the one-of-a-kind Faraday room.

Once the rear wall rose and she could enter the secure room, she saw that the window running the Wagner search had stopped running. Another window opened by the program listed several media company stories. Michelle sat and began reading what her search had found. The financial world was frantically seeking the reasons why a private holding company now owed one hundred percent of all the Wagner family holdings. The stock market was gyrating wildly over the unannounced change in ownership coupled with the fact that no one could make contact with any of the Wagner family members.

Michelle checked the time and saw the stock market had another two hours to trade before the 3:30PM close. The publically traded Wagner Companies were down; but, not completely devastated. The company’s legal counsel was not brought up to speed concerning the change in ownership. Per United States Statue Law, the Securities and Exchange Commission was notified about the purchase of one-hundred percent of the outstanding Wagner Companies stock plus the transfer of the remaining shares owned by the family. There was no public announcement of the sale per SEC rules because Michelle’s contacts within the SEC and the Federal Reserve kept the sale sealed.

Just as she was about to retire to spend some time with her children, the NSA search for information on Richard Nathan Weinstein started to show results some of which were quite distressing. The latest news had Weinstein and family sequestered on his custom built 665 foot yacht somewhere in the South Pacific. What Michelle needed more than his current location was the demographics of his family. Wife? Children? Pets? Family employees? When she had all of the details, she would be able to put together a plan to capture them all. The final question that formed in her thoughts was, _‘Where did he keep the data to maintain his control of the cabal of pedophiles and child slavery enthusiasts?’_

With her mind whirling around the need to capture, interrogate, torture, and eventually murder RNW, Michelle stood, exited the secure Faraday room, and pressed the hidden button to lower the wall that hid it from prying eyes. She exited the room and made her way to the game room where her children waited patiently for her.

“Ok you two,” said Michelle as she entered the large game room, “what shall we play?”

Constance jumped up and said, “Let’s play doctor!!!”

Totally flummoxed, Michelle stopped walking into the room, stared at her daughter, and asked, “Doctor?”

“Yes,” chortled Constance, “you know, the game where you have to pull pieces out of holes without setting off the buzzer.”

Relaxed, Michelle said, “Don’t you mean _Operation_?”

Charles, the more studious of the two children, said, “Again Constance??? All we play is _Operation._ How about we play a card game?”

“What card game would you like to play?” asked Michelle.

“ _War!!!_ ” chortled Charles.

Constance frowned, stamped her foot, but gave in to her brother. “Ok, let’s play _War_.”

Michelle, Constance, and Charles sat at a gaming table and for the next ninety minutes played more than one card game. It started with _War_ and ended with _Go Fish_.

Bridgette’s timing could not have been better, as Michelle was beginning to tire because of her lack of sleep. “Excuse ma’am,” said Bridgette, “you have a phone call.”

Michelle frowned, “I am not expecting anyone. Who?”

“The doctor,” replied Bridgette.

“Please be so kind tell him I am not available and get the information he needed to provide me,” said Michelle. “If he starts to question why I am not answering the phone, tell him I am incommunicado. Also, tell him whatever day and time he is going to come here is fine with me.”

“Yes ma’am,” replied Bridgette.

Michelle stood, stepped over to the extremely beautiful woman who could kill you with her index finger, and whispered in her ear, “When you get the date and time, be sure to note it and if need be, make arrangements for the children to out of the house.”

“Ma’am???”

“You are not privy to what is going on at the moment; but, when the good doctor has completed his assignment for me, I promise to show you something that I know will make you question who the fuck I am.”

Bridgette nodded and without saying a word departed the game room.

\-------------------------

Constance and Charles were put to sleep at precisely 8:00PM. Their doors were kept slightly open and per their mother’s request, there was no night lights illuminated in their rooms. The children were used to the dark and were taught not to be afraid of it. After tucking each of them into bed and kissing their cheeks, Michelle went to her private apartment to unwind, relax, and get some sleep. She changed out of her clothing into a XXL men’s tee-shirt and a pair of simple bikini panties. She wore a pair of soft leather faux-fur lined moccasins as slippers. As much as she wanted to get some sleep, her mind kept on wandering to the programs running in the secure room off the one area of the house off limits to her children. Inside her tired mind, she knew she would not be able to sleep until she checked the progress of the programs. If her husband were alive, he would lovingly take her into his arms and hold her until she complied with his unspoken command to relax and ultimately fall asleep.

The thought of her husband’s arms around her did not relieve the intellectual pressure to go check on the status of her programs. She did not throw on a bathrobe, instead she just walked from her side of the mansion to the well-hidden Faraday room. Sometimes she wondered why her husband constructed the electronics room where he did; but, she knew it was strategically located above the underground garage. _‘God, how I miss him,’_ thought Michelle, _‘my life has become something he would have backed; but, I know he harbored desires that were held at bay because of my childhood. His love for me outmatched my love for him.’_

Her tight 5’10” body was something men and women would wonder about. She birthed a set of fraternal twins. Family and friends thought she would explode sometime in her seventh month. Constance and Charles came two days after her due date. As it proved out as they grew up, Constance was the dominant one; but, her brother did not let it go very far. He never assumed a submissive role to his sister. In fact, unbeknownst to Michelle, when they were five years old, Charles pushed his sister to the floor, sat on her, and made her understand that her three minute age difference had no effect on her role as his older sister. The only time Charles struck his sister was when she tried to force him to obey her command to get off of her. A crisp slap across her face was enough to make her realize he was just as dominant as she was. From that moment forward, the two of them were inseparable equals.

As she descended the steps to the first floor, she eyed the lights of one of the Humvees circumnavigating the driveway. She could be stark naked on the front porch and not a single Seal would make an issue of her nudity. The men, as well as the women, knew she had the wherewithal to end their existence or just make them into paupers. Michelle made her way to the kitchen before heading to the Faraday room. She entered and was surprised to see Bridgette leaning against the counter with her right hand tucked in her pants. The girl was masturbating and from what Michelle could make out, was softly moaning her name. Her panties became soaked as her vaginal fluids flowed without restriction as if a dam had burst.

Bridgette stopped for a moment and turned to see Michelle standing watching her. It was just enough for the girl to pull her hand from her pants and say, “I’m so sorry Ms. Cooper. I thought you were in bed sound asleep. If I may be blunt, I needed to relieve my desire to be with you.”

Michelle approached, stood in front of Bridgette, opened her military style pants, and pulled them down to her knees. Without saying another word, Michelle went to her knees, kissed Bridgette’s panty covered mons, and gently pulled her boy short panties down. To Michelle’s surprise, Bridgette’s feminine charms were as bare as a new born. Her smell was intoxicating and the sheen to her labia told a story of several minutes of private manipulation of her sex. Not caring about anything, Michelle leaned forward and took a deep intake of Bridgette’s sexual aroma. Her pussy spasmed as a result. She did not lick or kiss the ever enticing pussy that was in front of her face. She looked up and into Bridgette’s eyes and said, “You have enhance my desire for you by keeping your womanhood bare as the day you were born. I too keep my womanhood bare. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to control me,” whispered Bridgette. “I want to serve you. Do with me as you please, Michelle.”

“Not now, but in the future,” said Michelle, “you shall serve me and only me sexually. Any other sexual encounters with other individuals will be at my request or command. Failure to comply will result in termination of your sexual slavery to me. For now, I need to taste you.”

Bridgette moaned as she felt the tip of her employer’s tongue pass through the canyon of her sex. Without thinking, Bridgette placed both of her hands on the sides of Michelle’s head. If it was another woman or girl, she would have taken control of the oral pleasure being performed on her. Instead, she just caressed Michelle’s head as the older woman began to suck on her engorged clitoris. Bridgette wanted to spread her legs further apart; but, was stopped by the width of her pants resting just about her knees. It was not something she wanted to stop so, she did everything possible separate her knees and thighs to give Michelle access to her charms.

For Michelle, the taste of Bridgette’s vaginal fluids were like a well preserved Bordeaux wine. There was a salty smoothness to her sexually induced discharge. Feeling Bridgette’s hands on her head was similar; but, not the same as her husband guiding her head as she performed erotic fellatio on him. After licking her exposed sex for a while, Michelle uncovered Bridgette’s engorged clitoris and gently sucked and caressed it bringing her employee to a mind-blowing full-body orgasm. Vaginal fluid poured from Bridgette’s opening. It did not squirt out under pressure. It flowed like a gentle stream that had built to a point where it had to break free of its shores.

Nothing was said by Bridgette as her body reacted to Michelle’s orally induced orgasm. Her surprise came when Michelle pulled her head back and forced Bridgette to turn and face the counter. The surprise was the feeling of her employer’s tongue swiping up from her vaginal orifice to the rosebud of her anus. Her groan of pleasure was enough for Michelle to realize that Bridgette loved to be rimmed and tongue fucked up her ass. Three minutes of anal rimming was all Michelle gave her. Bridgette knew their tryst was over when she felt Michelle’s body pressing against her back.

“Thank you for maintaining silence through your orgasm,” whispered Michelle. “Turn around.”

Bridgette did as she was commanded. Although it was a whisper, she knew the tides had changed. Going forward, Bridgette would be at her own request, her boss’ sex slave. She felt two fingers enter her vaginal opening. Their eyes met just as Michelle leaned down and placed her lips on Bridgette’s. Their tongues danced between their mouths. Just a taste of French kissing was all Michelle wanted. The girl would learn and accept without question who was in control.

“In time,” whispered Michelle, “your vagina will be my play thing. I have two fingers inside you. I will teach you to take my hand up to my wrist into your body. You will suffer knowing that my desire for you is based upon how much I can make you suffer erotically. Not pain for pain’s sake. But, the building of a desire that will allow you to accept your submissive position in our sexual relationship. When we are not enjoying each other’s body, you will have the respect I have given you from the moment I met you and saved you from your drug induced life on the street.”

Bridgette felt Michelle’s fingers leave her body. It was impossible to not groan just a bit as she felt the emptiness in her womanhood. Not caring in the least, Bridgette placed her hands on the sides of Michelle’s head, leaned up, and placed her lips on her employer’s forehead. “I am yours,” said Bridgette.

“Pull up your pants and go home,” said Michelle.

“I am home,” replied Bridgette. “As long as there are teams securing your property, I shall be here to protect the children and you. I will never leave you unprotected. When we are together and I am serving you sexually, I will serve you unconditionally. I accept and understand my subservient position, Michelle.”

Without responding, Michelle turned to leave the kitchen and said, “I will be in the Faraday room. I have to check on some work and I want to be alone. Check on the children and then go about your duties.”

\-------------------------

Opening the secure computer room revealed that the program searching for media information on the Wagner family had completed. The final piece was a private email from a senior executive at the SEC. The SEC was not going to investigate or deny Michelle’s holding company’s purchase of all of the Wagner family assets. For all intent and purpose, the remaining family members and their spawn were penniless.

The programs searching for all the private and public data about Richard Nathan Weinstein was still actively searching. The data search was working backwards. As information was captured and processed, it used new data points to search for additional public, private, and hidden information. When it finished, Michelle will have secured everything about Weinstein from the moment he passed through him mother’s vagina until the moment the program stopped processing.

Slipping her right hand between her legs, she masturbated furiously knowing that in the future it would be Bridgette’s job to keep her sexually satisfied. Two quick orgasms were enough to still her intellectual needs and allow her to do something she had not done in years. She made her way to the family room, found a blanket, wrapped it around her, and fell asleep on one of the soft leather couches. Tomorrow would be another day.


	8. Thursday - Friday, May 23 - 24, 2019 – Private Estate, Old Brookville, NY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final and total physical humiliation of Tripe S.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Michelle was not awoken by the early morning sun that always lit up the family room. Nor, was she awoken by the dulcet tones that usually emanated from her iPhone at precisely 5:00AM. When she finally did open her eyes and found her iPhone it became apparent that she needed the sleep. The time was 10:32AM. She rose, folded the blanket, and made her way upstairs to her boudoir. Just as she started up the stairs, she heard Bridgette call her name.

“Yes,” said Michelle.

Bridgette approached, stood close: but, not close enough to imply she wanted to kiss her, and said, “I let you sleep. Constance and Charles are off to school. I just finished my morning workout. Is there anything you need from me when I finish showering and getting dressed?”

The twinkle in Michelle’s eyes and the smile on her face telegraphed her desire to have morning sex with Bridgette. Instead Michelle said, “I would love to take that shower with you; but, I need to get my day started.” She stepped close to Bridgette and whispered. “Last night was amazing. I had to diddle myself as I checked out certain programs that were running. I was so exhausted I could only stumble to the family room, wrap myself in a blanket, and sleep on a couch rather than attempt to go upstairs.”

“I felt the same about our encounter,” said Bridgette. “Is there anything I need to do other than my daily chores around the house?”

“No. But, if you would, please check on your team members. Please make sure they have everything they need. I know it can get tiresome hanging around just waiting. Also, prepare a schedule so they can pair up and use the gym or run the circumference of the property,” said Michelle.

“Yes ma’am,” replied Bridgette.

Michelle’s morning routine was cut short thankfully after she had completed her shower and getting dressed. Her iPhone toned informing her that both of her programs had finished. She stopped in the kitchen, found that Bridgette had made coffee, poured a mug, and made her way to the Faraday room. By the time she was standing in front of the alcove that hid the electronics room, the mug was empty. She pressed the button and waited for the false wall to rise into the ceiling.

Both monitors showed the small scrolling banner that announced they had completed their task. Media stories on the Wagner family were nonexistent after the Security and Exchange Commission informed the financial world that a privately held trust had purchased one-hundred percent of the Wagner family holdings. Michelle smiled to herself, pressed the proper key sequence, and the useless data and program was scrubbed from her system. The search program for Richard Nathan Weinstein was another story in and of itself.

The first program message she read advised that she would need five two terabyte thumb drives to hold the data that was presently being held on the world’s largest network attached storage (NAS) device. The NAS device attached to Michelle’s super computer held ten Yottabytes of data. A single Yottabyte contains 1,208,925,819,614,629,174,706,176 bytes. Michelle knew if the National Security Agency became aware of her one-of-a-kind network attached storage device, they would want immediate access to it or begin the process of declaring a national emergency and taking it from her. That would never happen because the electric power needed to keep the NAS device running was generated totally off the United States electric grid. For that matter, her estate was the only privately held property in the world that was totally self-sufficient for electric, gas, water, and sewage.

The five two terabyte thumb drives were inserted into the 3.0 USB hub and with two key strokes the data was transferred and scrubbed from the NAS device. There was no reason to keep the data permanently. What Michelle needed was historic information and present day information that she could use to abduct Richard Nathan Weinstein without raising alarms. It took only seven minutes to transfer the data and another seven minutes for a well-used documentation program to sift through the documents, pictures, and videos to put them in a chronological date order. With that complete, Michelle stood, grabbed her cell phone and coffee mug, closed the fake wall, and made her way to the kitchen. She was going to need more than a mug of coffee to get through the day reading and dividing up the data collected on her next abduction.

Returning with a large thermos of coffee, Michelle began the tedious part of reading and cataloging the results of the data gathered by her program. She made cryptic notes on an air-gapped tablet that would be destroyed after she was finished going through the terabytes of data her program collected. From 11:00AM until Constance and Charles came home from school, only Bridgette broke her concentration when she requested entrance to the Faraday room.

The first time Bridgette entered the Faraday room was also the first time she actually saw the electronics room. Instead of entering, she remained just inside the doorway and called out to her employer. Michelle noted where she was in the reams of data she was digesting, stood, and against all of her self-imposed training, exited the small room within a room leaving the false wall open.

“You are now privy to something that you’re not supposed to be,” said Michelle. “In time based upon your growth as one of my top team members, I would have shown you what my husband and I did for an undocumented living.” Michelle waited a moment and asked, “What may I do for you?”

“Shall I leave?”

“Why? You’ve already seen into the electronics room.”

“I was wondering if you needed or wanted any solid food. I know all you’ve had today is a shit-load of coffee.”

“When I am sifting through written data, looking at pictures, listening to phone calls and conversations, and watching videos, I am not in the least concerned with solid food. My husband never understood how I survived when we were nose-to-the-grindstone searching for someone or something. I want you to step to the opening look around and then come back.”

Bridgette did as she was asked. Her mind was overtaken with curiosity concerning the computers, monitors, printers, and other electronics she’d never seen before. Her head moved side-to-side several times before she turned and stepped to her employer.

“What did you see?” asked Michelle.

“Computers, monitors, printers, and some devices I never saw before,” responded Bridgette.

“You are to forget what you saw. You are to never tell anyone about this room or its contents. This is the only warning I will give you. Keep this room secure in your memory and I promise in time you will be involved with a portion of what it does. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Now since you’ve broken my concentration, come here, push me down onto the couch, and suck me to several orgasms.”

Surprised and unsure if her employer was serious, Bridgette said, “Are you serious?”

“I wish I were,” said Michelle. “I am hoping in time we will have all the time in the world for you to suckle my clit, finger my hole, and eat me to multiple orgasms. Now, think about what I just said and make sure there is something good for dinner.”

“Yes ma’am,” said Bridgette

\-------------------------

At 4:01PM, Michelle’s iPhone pinged signaling her children would be arriving home shortly. She noted where she was, gathered her things, stood, and as she departed the electronics room, pressed the hidden button to return the wall to its closed position. She headed to the kitchen to prepare the children’s milk and cookies to find Bridgette and two of the four Charlie Team members standing and talking with her. All three of them snapped to a form of attention upon seeing her entering the kitchen.

“Please,” said Michelle, “this is not a true military environment. I appreciate your military bearing; but, it is not necessary in my home. When we’re in the warehouse, I expect the respect due me for the position.”

The senior member of Charlie Team relaxed while keeping a wary eye on the surroundings and said, “Thank you ma’am. It is just ingrained in our psychological makeup. Also, thank you for allowing us to use the gym. It is as well appointed as the one you built in the warehouse. Again, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Both Charlie Team members nodded, offered fist bumps to Bridgette, and departed the kitchen to return to their posts. Bridgette stood leaning against the counter in front of the sink wondering if she was about to get a tongue lashing for allowing the men into the kitchen.

“I can see on your face that you are a bit afraid of what I saw,” said Michelle. “I am not angry at you. Those men need to know that they have access to this house; but, I am cautious when Constance and Charlie are home.”

“I understand, ma’am,” stated Bridgette.

“One of them seems to have eyes for you,” said Michelle and before Bridgette could answer said, “Will you prepare their milk and cookies or should I do it?”

“No, ma’am,” said Bridgette. “I was going to start preparing it when they stopped in after using the gym. I’m sorry if I did anything wrong.”

Michelle stepped to her children’s guardian, touched her left cheek, and said, “You’re fine, Bridgette. You’ll know when I am not happy with your performance. I am going to put this paperwork on the counter and wait by the front door. Do not be curious about the contents. You could end up losing your life.”

Not fazed in the least by the threat, Bridgette replied, “Serious business. I understand. When I return to operational status, I know I will be read-in on some or all of the intelligence.”

Michelle did not respond. She placed the stack of folders and three-ring binders on the counter, turned, and made her way to the front door. She waited a bit impatiently for the yellow school bus to enter the one lane road and pull up to the front of the house. One minute past their due time, she began to worry. Two minutes past their due time, one of the two Humvees pulled up to the front of the house. Constance and Charlie jumped out of the rear seat, ran to the porch, and climbed it as they did every day the school bus dropped them at home.

Their routine was broken by one of the Charlie Team members, “Ms. Cooper, it was a tactical decision to stop the school bus from entering the property. Going forward we will pick up Constance and Charlie in the morning and return them in the afternoon.” He waited for an answer and none came, he said with a giant grin of his face, “They are two very intelligent children. From the moment the entered the vehicle until they just jumped out, they were perfect angels. It is a pleasure to be part of the team guarding your domicile.”

Michelle nodded, knelt down, and per their daily home from school greeting, her children hugged and kissed her before entering the house. When she entered the kitchen, the look on Bridgette’s face signaled that there was something wrong. She stopped in the middle of the room, pulled Constance and Charlie close to her sides, and said, “I can see it on your face.”

“Take the children to the safe room,” said Bridgette. It was more of a command than a request.

“Tell me why?” asked Michelle.

The intake of breath by Bridgette gave Michelle a bit more intelligence. Then she heard Bridgette say in a soft voice, “Charlie Team has identified a properly line breach. Charlie Team One and Two are headed there now. Please, Ms. Cooper. Go to the safe room.”

Michelle knew why Bridgette commanded her to go and as she requested. One minute thirty-five seconds later, Michelle, Constance, and Charlie were safely ensconced in the safe room. The safe room was actually a nuclear hardened bunker built underneath the Olympic sized swimming pool in the backyard. There was one ingress point which was also an egress point. Hidden in the bunker was another egress point that opened to a tunnel that spanned the property allowing the survivors to escape from whom or whatever made them first enter the safe room. Michelle’s husband’s design made sure that the room could hold a maximum of twelve individuals for a minimum of twelve months or longer if they rationed food and water.

\-------------------------

Bridgette went to the armory and retrieved a Seal designed M60E4 machine gun fitted with an assault barrel. She grabbed six fully loaded magazines of 7.65x5 NATO rounds with every belt consisting of two M80 Ball rounds, followed by one each of a M62 tracer round and a M61 armor-piercing round. She slung the weapon’s web sling over her right shoulder, hung five of the six magazines from the specially designed belt, slammed home the last magazine, and racked the bolt chambering the first round. The index finger of her right hand found the safety and she clicked it through its operational positions once before setting it to the safe position on the loaded weapon.

“Charlie Team One to Base. Do you copy?”

“Base here,” replied Bridgette as she made her way to the front door of the log cabin mansion.

“We are on foot approaching the breech. Locked and loaded,” stated Charlie Team One.

“Copy that,” answered Bridgette. “Return fire only if fired upon.”

“Copy that,” replied Charlie Team One.

Using the thick forest for cover, Charlie Team One and Charlie Team Two made their way alongside the dirt road towards the breech point as displayed on their heads-up eye shields. Borrowed from the United States Air Force who developed the face shields for F35 Strike Fighter pilots, Michelle and her husband redesigned them to be light and portable. They could be connected to satellite feeds or locally sourced impenetrable computer network systems. The pair that Charlie Team members were wearing were connected to the supercomputer. As they approached the point, they could see real time video of the area. Charlie Team One stopped, held up his hand, and signaled Charlie Team Two to stop dead in his tracks.

“Charlie Team One to base.”

“Base here,” replied Bridgette.

“Reduce threat level to normal. Four teenagers breeched the fence. They are presently sitting in a small clearing smoking dope. We’ll take care of them and close the fence breech.”

“Copy that,” replied Bridgette. “Charlie One, be sure they’re scared enough to keep their mouths closed. We do not need the locals opening up a can of worms.”

“Copy that, base,” replied Charlie One.

The two teenage boys and the two teenaged girls did not hear Charlie One and Charlie Two approach the small clearing in the trees. Their first inkling that something was amiss was when each boy was flung forward onto their stomachs and each girl felt the working end of a M4 pressed against the back of their heads.

“Don’t fuckin’ move,” said Charlie One.

Neither man wanted to hurt the teenagers; but, they needed to scare the living shit out of them. Both teenage boys rolled over, jumped to their feet, and stopped short when they saw two giant men in full military combat gear pressing what appeared to be assault rifles into the back of their girlfriend’s head. As if by instinct, they both raised their hands, interlocked their fingers behind their head, and just stood stock-still.

Charlie One saw the fear on the boy’s faces. He could not see the girl’s faces; but, he assumed they were just as scared as the boys. He closed his eyes for a nanosecond realizing the boys were about to piss their pants. He nodded to Charlie Two to keep his weapon raised; but, not against the girl’s head. Charlie One lowered his weapon and said, “First, do not piss your pants. We’re not going to hurt you. What we are going to tell you is very simple. Breech that fence a second time and your parents will wonder for the rest of their natural lives what happened to you. You are on private property that is guarded twenty-four hours a day seven days a week. Nod if you understand what I just said to you.”

All four teenagers nodded in the affirmative.

“Lower your hands and the four of you leave the way you came. We are going to watch you. Any funny stuff and before you know it, you’ll be bound and gagged. Relay anything that happened here today to anyone and your families will suffer the consequences. As I said, this is private property. Now, get the fuck out of here.”

The four teenagers ran faster than a cheetah chasing a prey. They were outside the wire in seconds and on their bikes headed away from the property. It took Charlie One and Two fifteen minutes to close the gap in the fence.

“Charlie One to base.”

“Base here.”

“All secure. Returning to base.”

“Copy that,” replied Bridgette.

She returned to the armory where she unloaded and replaced her weapon. It took her two minutes to get to the door of the safe room. She pressed the intercom button and said, “All clear.”

Inside Michelle sighed, went to the control panel, entered the proper codes before having her right eye scanned, and then pressing the correct series of buttons to unlock the heavy bomb proof door. She gathered up Constance and Charlie and waited for the door to swing open. They exited and without having to perform anything special, the door silently swung shut. The only sound Michelle heard was the bolts slamming home to secure the door.

As they walked back to the kitchen, Michelle asked, “What happened?”

“Four teenagers breeched the fence, ma’am,” replied Bridgette.

The frown on Michelle’s face spoke volumes.

“When we’re alone, ma’am,” said Bridgette, “not in front of Constance and Charlie.”

Michelle stopped short as did her children. “Tell me now. If I need to, I will explain it to them.”

“They found a small clearing in the tree line. How I do not know. But, they were sitting on a fallen tree smoking dope.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Bridgette. “They were not engaging in any form of sexual activities. They were just smoking dope.”

“Understood,” said Michelle. “We are going to the kitchen for dinner. Forget the milk and cookies. Do you have something ready to be cooked?”

“No ma’am. But, I can whip something up pretty quick.”

Out of the blue, Constance asked, “Can we have hamburgers and fries?”

Michelle looked at Bridgette who nodded in the affirmative. “Ok, then, hamburgers and fries it is.”

The rest of the night was quiet and uneventful. Bridgette watched the children giving Michelle the much needed time to review the data she had scrubbed from the Internet. The children were in bed by 8:00PM. Bridgette retired to her space at 10:00PM. Michelle closed her eyes at 11:20PM surrounded by the file folders and three-ring binders containing the life of one Richard Nathan Weinstein.

\-------------------------

Michelle woke at 5:00AM. She showered, dressed casually, and after putting together her documents on Weinstein, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Thankfully, she was alone. Not that it mattered if Bridgette was awake and downstairs, Michelle wanted to brew a pot of coffee, eat something lite, and continue to dig into the life of Richard Nathan Weinstein. She had one hour and twenty-two minutes of alone time before her iPhone signaled an incoming call. She checked the screen, pressed the green answer icon, and simply said, “Hello.” Less than one minute later, she hung up and knew she had to have the children out of the house from today through Sunday night. Her next stop was Bridgette’s room.

“Bridgette,” she said as she knocked lightly on the door.

Bridgette already dressed, opened the door, and said, “Yes, ma’am. Care to come in for a moment?”

An emphatic “NO” stopped everything that Bridgette wanted to transpire between the women. “You need to pack a bag with clothing that will last until late Sunday night.”

“Where am I going?” asked Bridgette.

“You are taking the children to the pied-a-tier in SoHo,” answered Michelle. “I have something to do here that the children cannot be aware of or see.”

“I understand, ma’am,” said Bridgette. “I have a go bag packed that should last the weekend or more if need be.”

“I will wake the children and get them packed,” said Michelle. “Meet me in the kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

\-------------------------

Fifteen minutes before the good doctor was due to arrive, Michelle packed Constance and Charles into the back seat of a Tesla Model S Performance AWD sedan. She gave Bridgette the fob to start the vehicle and whispered, “I know what you wanted this morning. As much as I would have enjoyed a tryst, it cannot happen when the children are home. I am depending upon you to be discreet. Take them to the pied-a-tier.” She handed Bridgette an American Express Centurion card and said, “I have called AmEx. They know you are using the card. If customer service calls to verify, the four numbers on the front of the card in reverse order are the confirmation code. Treat them; but, do not go overboard. I will call you late Sunday afternoon and let you know if you’re staying or coming back to the house.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Bridgette.

Once the Tesla was gone from the property, Michelle notified the Charlie Team at the gate to expect the doctor.

Dr. Irwin Armstrong arrived one minute before he was expected. Charlie Team without asking permission from Michelle searched the exterior and interior of his vehicle. Dr. Armstrong was surprised; but, did not create a fuss. He drove up to the spot he always parked and exited his vehicle. He was surprised to see Michelle standing on the front porch and without a thought made his way over to her. “Good morning, Mrs. Cooper,” said Dr. Armstrong.

“Good morning Irwin,” replied Michelle. “We’re headed to the surgery center and since it is such a nice morning, I decided to walk around the house to the center.”

“Fine with me.”

Together Michelle and Dr. Armstrong walked around the property passing between the mansion itself and the ten car garage building. Once in the backyard, Michelle headed towards the house on the other side of the Olympic pool. They passed the house and walked down a stone path to a small building that was ninety percent underground. The roof was actually comprised of grass and small bushes. On the back side of the building was a staircase that led to a door that would give them access to the clandestine surgery enter. It was not the first time Dr. Armstrong was inside the building; but, it was the first time he accessed it through the outside entrance.

“Make yourself comfortable, doc,” said Michelle. “It will take me a few minutes to transport the subject to his emasculation.”

Dr. Armstrong nodded as he said, “I can use a few minutes to start setting up. But, just one question Michelle, “Will I be working alone?”

Michelle smiled because he used her first name, which she did not mind at all before she said, “Yes.”

Michelle descended a flight of stairs to the underground tunnel that would lead back to the basement of the main house. It connected the area of the basement where she kept Triple S. Once inside the basement and the room where Stephen Steward Simmons was ensconced in a sensory deprivation chamber, she quickly made a gurney ready for his transport. She kept him sedated, opened the chamber, lifted his lifeless body out of the water, and placed him on the gurney. Ten minutes after she left Dr. Armstrong she returned with the subject of the surgery. Together they moved him from the gurney onto the surgical table.

“How sedated is he?” asked the doctor.

“Pretty deep,” replied Michelle. “I’ve been giving him doses of phenobarbital every two hours.”

“A bit much; but, who am I to advise you of what could have happened,” said the doctor. “Have you finalized what you want to do to the poor bastard?”

“I want his life to be extremely miserable,” replied Michelle. “The love of his life is between his legs. In his sick mind, the only purpose he has in life is to sexually abuse children. I have taken everything from him except for what is more than life itself to him – his genitals. I would like him to have to view his cock and balls in a glass jar filled with formaldehyde. Yet, I want him to be beholden to me for sexual stimulation. The kind of stimulation that will be unsatisfying and totally painful. Have you done your research?”

“I have,” replied the doctor. “It is possible to remove his penis, reroute the urethra to a position anterior to his anus, and force him to sit to urinate. The rerouting of the urethra will entail opening the body between the root of his penis and his anus. By doing this, I will be able to place his gonads on either side of his bladder. The will be tucked away high enough that when he has recovered from the surgery, he will be smooth as a baby’s bottom between his legs. He will continue to produce sperm, but will not be able to masturbate to relieve his need to evacuate the built up sperm in his gonads. Will that suffice?”

“It should,” replied Michelle. “Will you be able to remove his penis whole so I can keep it in a jar on my desk?”

“I can,” replied the doctor, “but, it will add a few hours to the surgery.”

“Not an issue. Take all the time you need. I will be in the house and you know how to make contact. Whatever you need just let me know,” said Michelle.

Dr. Armstrong nodded and said, “Understood. If you would, please bring me a sandwich and something to drink around noon.”

“Done,” said Michelle as she departed the operating theater for the tunnel back to her house.

\--------------------

Having the house to herself, Michelle used oversized oak breakfast table to lay out her research to try and finalize a plan for the takedown of Richard Nathan Weinstein. A large pot of dark French roast coffee with two scoops of Espresso added in kept her mind sharp as she worked the problem. Weinstein spent an inordinate amount of time on his custom built 665 foot yacht. Any of his land based homes would not pose an insurmountable problem; but, his yacht would mean an ocean based assault operation. As she worked the problem, she knew in the back of her mind, the retired Seals would come up with a solution that would enable her to capture Weinstein.

Per the doctor’s request, Michelle brought a twelve inch New York Hero Sandwich filled with lean roast beef, corned beef, and pastrami, two potato knishes, and three Doctor Brown’s Black Cherry sodas. She simply opened the door to the operating theater, placed the tray on the counter designed to receive it, and departed back without as much as a word to the doctor.

Dr. Armstrong had performed a lot of surgeries; but, nothing compared to what he was doing for Mrs. Cooper. He placed IVs into the patient’ arm, check his vital signs, and made sure that he had clear IV line to administer versed, fentanyl, and propofol to keep his patient in a deep drug induced comatose state. After making sure the patient was not going to go into cardiac arrest, Dr. Armstrong shaved all the hair from Simmons’ body below his belly button to his knees. Once he had completed the hair removal, he used several chlorhexidine antibacterial wipes to kill ninety-nine percent of the bacteria on his body. Since he would have to access his anus, Dr. Armstrong decided to move Triple S down the surgical table and raise his legs into a pair of gynecology stirrups. Now that he was prepared to begin the actual surgical cutting, he pressed the remote control in his pocket which turned on a prepared playlist of classical music.

The first step was to insert a thin metal rod into the urethra being careful to now pierce the wall of the bladder. Once the rod was secured into place and the patient’s penis was stretched to its maximum length, Dr. Armstrong used several short strokes to remove the scrotum sack covering the testes. Once the testes were uncovered, he allowed them to hang free as he returned to removing the rather large penis. Since Michelle wanted the subject’s penis intact, he used his left hand to find the root of the penis and marked a circle around the soon to be removed sexual organ. With deft movements, Dr. Armstrong slowly cut into the corpus spongiosum to keep from cutting into or severing spongy urethra even though it was being held by the metal rod. It took an hour of slow methodical work by the doctor to remove more than the exterior portion of the subject’s penis. He opened the skin behind where the scrotum used to hang and with careful movements removed as much of the corpus spongiosum that was inside the subject’s body. Once he completed the necessary surgical cuts, he slowly pulled the penis from the subject’s body. Behind his mask and face shield, he had a shit-eating grin on his face for completing his first total penectomy.

After lunch, Dr. Armstrong moved the freed urethra to a small hole to the anterior side of the subject’s anus. Using micro surgery techniques, he measure the length needed to reattach the urethra to the new opening. He placed a small catheter into the opening to keep it open while it healed and to allow the patient to empty his bladder. The final step before closing the surgical opening was to place the subject’s testes between the wall of his bladder and the prostate gland. Once they were in place and the doctor was satisfied with his surgical work, he pulled the skin together and used several interior and exterior dissolving sutures that would leave a minimum scar. He covered the surgical areal with gauze and surgical tape. Before he would reduce the anesthesia, he made the call to Michelle to advise her to return to the surgical theater.

Michelle entered the operating theater, covered her mouth and nose with a mask, and asked, “How did it go?”

“Just as you wished,” said Dr. Armstrong. “In fact, I was able to remove the interior portion of the penis.” He pointed to a large glass apothecary jar, and said, “As you requested. His penis is forever preserved.”

“His balls?”

‘Inside his body. He will have no methodology to reduce his state of horniness except to have something inserted into his anus to massage his prostate gland. The resulting orgasm will not be pleasurable.”

“Healing time and what do I need to do from a nursing standpoint?”

Dr. Armstrong thought for a moment before answering, “Based upon his age, he should heal nicely within ten to fourteen days. I have placed a catheter in his new opening urination opening. It will have to be removed in seven days as long as it does not get infected. Are you ok with removing it?”

“Sure. If it hurts the bastard, I could care less.”

“If you do not remove it properly, this work will be worth absolutely nothing. You have to sterilize the area, lubricate it, and with a gentle single pull remove the catheter.”

“Understood. When can I move him?”

“You can move him now if you want to. I have left two more saline bags and one antibiotic bag. The subject needs all of them. If you need to keep him sedated, than please use a smaller amount of phenobarbital to keep the subject under.”

“Understood. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, Michelle. Just please make payment directly to my offshore account.”

“You will have the money by tomorrow morning.”

“Then we are done here.”

“Clean up, change, and I will see you to your car,” said Michelle.

\-------------------------

Dinner was a simple affair. Two grilled cheese sandwiches and two glasses of wine. The work she needed to complete would wait until the morning. Her main goal was getting Triple S secure in a room in the basement and sedated. Video and audio would be her eyes and ears. What she wanted more than anything was some alone time. Time to think about her husband as she masturbated to multiple orgasms. Her desire for Bridgette would wait until it could be consummated real-time and not just a quick session of satisfying sexual needs. Before she knew it, she was sound asleep holding his pillow as if she was cuddled against him.


	9. Saturday, May 25, 2019 – Private Estate, Old Brookville, NY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triple S learns his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Her iPhone alarm sounded at 5:00AM. After performing her morning routine, she went directly to the basement where Triple S was recovering from his surgery. She donned a sterile gown, face mask, and gloves, went to the side of the hospital bed where Triple S lay, and checked his vital signs. The three IV bags were empty. Michelle had taken a chance when she did not wake up in the middle of the night to check in on him. The urine bag was halfway filled which told her his kidneys were functioning. The only thing she needed to do was to bring him out of his drug induced coma. She thought for a moment and decided it could wait until she finished breakfast and made a phone call.

Breakfast was not typical for Michelle. She made four eggs over easy with black pepper only, four link sausages, and four pieces of lightly toasted rye bread with caraway seeds. Her morning coffee was the only thing that did not change for her. Dark French Roast coffee with two scoops of Espresso mixed into the brew basket. Twelve cups would get her through most of the day. As she sat reading the beginning of her dossier on Richard Nathan Weinstein, her iPhone rang. It was the ring associated with Alpha Team One.

“Michelle,” was all she said to the caller.

The caller knew that she knew who was on the other end of the call. He also knew it was not made over a secure connection. He made a cryptic statement to his employer, “Ma’am, we have a couple of issues here.”

Michelle had an inkling as to who, not what, was the problem. She stated, “Gunther?”

“Yes, ma’am.

She thought for a second and said, “Put him under. I will be there Sunday in the afternoon with another friend.”

“Understood,” said Alpha One, “but, Michael Krauss is another story altogether.”

“Really,” said Michelle surprised that Michael was not being a docile little boy. “Can it wait until I arrive later?”

“Yes,” replied Alpha One.

The line went dead and Michelle knew it was going to take something more than threats to get Gunther Wagner to understand that we was no longer an alpha male. Michael Krauss was an issue she could be deal with quite easily. He was probably crying and moaning like a little baby. A strong feminine presence ordering him to behave should be enough to quell his fears. The phone call finalized the thoughts she had about transferring Triple S to the warehouse for the remainder of his recuperation. Her hope was that when Gunther saw Triple S, he would realize that fucking with Michelle would result in something worse than death. Living the rest of his life as an emasculated male would be worse that a bullet to his brain. Death is a short term solution because the pain is not really felt as the brain and body ceases to function. Living a life of ridicule and sexual slavery to a woman would be the worst possible insult to a man of Germanic heritage and inbred ideas of superiority. Gunther Wagner would never accept taking a big black cock up his ass. Every time a black man butt fucked him would akin to him being tortured without an end.

She finished her breakfast and then spent another hour and thirty minutes reviewing the data she had on RNW. What she had not completely reviewed was the terabytes of video data her program had found all over the Internet. The paparazzi photos were enough; but, should she need to, she would sit and begrudgingly watch the hours of video her terabyte thumb drives held. No matter how she structured a takedown of RNW, it always returned to how she was going to capture him if he was on his yacht. Frustrated, she closed the files and binders, slammed the last one down on her oak breakfast table, and made her way to the basement.

She noted the time as she entered the room without any personal protective gear. She went to the side of his bed, reached for the control of IV containing the anesthetic drug, and reduced the flow to nothing. Michelle stood for the next forty-five minutes watching Stephen Stewart Simmons slowly regain consciousness. It only when she knew he was fully conscious she spoke.

“Stewart, do not try to move. You shackled are in a hospital bed. There is nowhere for you to go. Nod if you understand me.”

Triple S nodded. His brain was still in a bit of a fog; but, he did ask, “Which hospital am I in?”

“You’re not in a hospital, Stewart. You’re still situated on Long Island.”

His mind cleared enough for him to put a name to the voice, “Michelle Cooper?”

Hearing him utter her name was music to her ears. Stephen Stewart Simmons had not lost his memory after being ensconced in a sensory deprivation chamber for several weeks. If he was someone she cared about, she would have touched his hand to show some compassion and empathy for his situation. Instead, she stood by the side of the bed and gave him a verbal psychological punch in the solar plexus.

“Yes. Surgery was performed on you by a preeminent surgeon that is in my employ. The love of your life is secured in a large glass apothecary jar which you will be able to see from your bed. A second one will be engraved with the date and time of your emasculation. It is in that jar the love of your life will reside forever preserved in formaldehyde. Your testicles are not hanging between your legs. They have been surgically placed inside your body and will continue to produce sperm. You have nothing between your legs. You will have to sit like a woman to urinate. You will have no way to relieve your horniness except to have someone massage your prostate gland to force you to dribble your useless seed from your new piss hole by your anus. I fuckin’ told you that I would ruin your fuckin’ pedo life.”

Stephen maintained his stare for a millisecond before he turned away so he could begin to process what he just heard. Silence ensued for a good three minutes before Stephen Stewart Simmons cried and screamed, “NO-O-O!!!”

Again, Michelle waited for Triple S to calm down from the only bit of news that would forever haunt his conscious and unconscious mind. He no longer had the ability to abuse children because he was no longer a man in the truest sense of the word. He had no money. He was penniless. His life now depended on the goodwill of one Michelle Cooper. He could only pick suicide to end his misery; but, the implements needed to succeed would not be available to him. Michelle would make sure that he suffered the indignation of being sexless for the rest of his natural life. Because she wanted to transport him to the warehouse, she needed to get him out of bed and walking around the small room. Then and only then would she be able to make sure he could walk and sit without causing any unwanted damage to the catheter that was allowing his bladder to drain.

“Are you through being a little bitch, Simmons?” asked Michelle.

Stephen hated being addressed by his last name only. His anger increased only to decrease when he felt the surgical pain begin to rise to a point he could not take it anymore. “Do you have something for the pain? Please!!!”

“Here’s the deal. I am going to remove your bindings. You are going to roll to your side, swing your legs over the side of the bed, and stand up. There is a catheter in your new piss hole and it is imperative that it remain in place for a minimum of seven days. That is the time your new piss hole will take to heal. I need you to walk around the room. There is enough tubing connected to the catheter to allow you to circumnavigate the room. If you do anything stupid, you’ll have a catheter in your new piss hole for the rest of your miserable life.”

Michelle did not expect an immediate answer from Simmons. She was wary of his intentions; but, without any form of protection, she opened the cuffs that surround his wrists and ankles.

“Stand,” she commanded.

Stephen Steward Simmons rotated his body to his left so he could get his legs over the side of the bed. Once he was comfortable, he used his hands to push is body up so he could stand. He wobbled on his legs for a moment before regaining his balance. Stephen could feel the bandages between his legs. It did not hide the emptiness he felt. What he wondered was if he was going to have phantom feelings that his genitals were still there the way amputees feel when an arm or leg is removed. With small baby steps, Stephen started to walk around the room.

“Good boy,” said Michelle. “I am going to stay here to be sure you comply with my wishes. Then and only then will I deign to bring you something to eat and drink. You have antibiotics to take and I will need to change your surgical dressing. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask them.”

Stephen saw the apothecary jar for the first time and he froze where he stood. He looked back-and-forth from the jar to Michelle. He swayed for a minute before regaining his balance and stability. He faced Michelle and growled, “You fuckin’ bitch!!! You low life piece-of-dog shit!!! You fuckin’ emasculated me!!!”

Michelle laughed quite hard before she stated, “I fuckin’ told you not to fuck with me. You are penniless and the love of your life is swimming in a jar of formaldehyde. Your ability to abuse children is officially over. Your life depends on my kindness to you. Otherwise, you will suffer every possible indignity I can foist upon you every day for the rest of your miserable life.”

“My business?”

“Simple, like I told you, I own it. I own Angelina. In fact, Monday morning she will arrive at my building, open it, and continue to do business with what are now my clients. She will also place advertisements to find new clients. If you comply with my wishes, I just may let you return to Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency.”

“Impossible. There are legal documents that need to signed and sent to Federal Government, State of New York, and the City of New York to put the business in your name. I do not fuckin’ believe you.”

“My legal team does not need your signature on documents to enact the sale of your business to my trusts. That also goes for your bank accounts, safety deposit boxes, off shore accounts, and all of your real estate. Trust me when I tell you that you do not have a pot to piss in. Your sole avenue of support is. . .” Michelle paused for effect. “Me.”

“Jesus!!! Angelina???”

“She has accepted her place as one of my indentured servants. So has her husband. To prove her fealty to me, she knelt and kissed my feet. She begged me to allow her to suck my cunt; but, I would not allow her the pleasure. She and her husband will only survive by committing themselves to do without question everything I tell them to.”

Where it came from, Michelle could not fathom: but, Stephen Steward Simmons started to walk around the room with a purpose. What the purpose was she could not ascertain. But, she knew he was going to try to build up his strength so he could free himself from the horror that was now his life. Michelle watched while leaning against the counter that held one-third of his genitals in a glass apothecary jar. Neither of them spoke for a good thirty-five minutes.

Michelle thought, _‘Time to add more pain to his humiliation.’_ She stepped away from the counter and said, “Do you know the Wagner family? Gunther and Mable Wagner?”

“I do,” was his simple response.

“Do you know their children?”

“Yes. Why are you asking?”

“If you want me to hurt you, continue answering my questions with what I consider nonsensical cryptic answers. So, let’s try it again. How well do you know the Wagner family?”

“Their grandchildren were brought to me to find out if they were candidates for modeling and or acting. If you’re wondering, they did not know of my love of children.”

”Really… Then how did they become knowledgeable of your sick need to have sex with underage children and help you to become their pedo banker?”

Frozen where he stood at the opposite side of the small room, Stephen’s hands went to his crotch. It did not take long for Michelle to realize that his reaction to stress was to touch and caress the part of his body that did not exist anymore. After a few minutes of frustration, he asked “How do you know that?”

“Simmons, you are playing with fire,” said Michelle. She stared into his eyes and spat, “Do not take me for a fool. If you continue to lie to me, I will take a syringe of fentanyl and start you on the road to addiction. Your only desire in life will be getting high. To gain enough money to purchase the drug, you will have to suck cock or take cock up your ass. I will turn you into drug addled cum dump primarily for black cock.”

Stephen moved to the bed, leaned against it, and thought about his future. It was plainly obvious that he had no out or recourse to stop his tormentor from gaining information from him. What he held in his head was going to be verbalized at whatever cost it took her to retrieve it. This time only his right hand went down to his crotch. He felt the thickness of the surgical dressing for a second time and began to quietly cry. Stephen Stewart Simmons never cried in front of a woman much less than the one that took the pride of his life away from him.

“I met the Gunther and Mable at a party. It was not a pedo party. I spoke with both of them for most of the evening. It was during the conversation, Mabel made an offhand comment about what I as packing behind the zipper of my gabardine slacks. Gunther offered to take me to a very special private party the following weekend. As I said, they had no idea that I was using my business to find available children for me to molest.”

“You did not speak to them again until they picked you up to take you to the party?” asked Michelle.

“Gunther called me to chat about nothing special. Intuition told me he had checked me and my business out and the phone call was made so he could masturbate while we spoke of nothing especially sexual.”

“You heard him masturbating?”

“Yes and I did not bring it up. I think he was waiting for me to say something to him about it.”

“Are you sure he was only masturbating?”

“At the party, he admitted to me that his youngest child was between his legs sucking his cock. But, at the time his youngest was in her early twenties.”

“What precipitated the exchange of pedophilic activities?”

Stephen looked at the floor in front of his feet. His right hand again went to his crotch to seek out his cock. Apparently, he had trained himself to touch his genitals when speaking about sex. He froze when he could not grasp the shaft of his penis. He growled to himself before responding to Michelle’s question, “The party was first and foremost an introductory activity. Second, once the prospective members had completed their interviews, they were shown the door; so, the members could begin to bid on children that were available for a future party.”

“How did you learn of the second activity to take place at the party?”

“I was quietly invited to stay. The Wagners had used their influence to get the individual in control to allow me to stay. I found out after that they told him what I did for a living. That opened the door for immediate entrance to the underground child abduction and trafficking ring.”

“There’s more,” said Michelle. “I can tell by your physical demeanor and look on your face.”

“The individual I met. . .”

“His or her name now,” demanded Michelle.

Stephen knew he had better answer with the truth, “His name is Pierre Lemaire.” To his surprise, Michelle nodded when she heard his name. Stewart considered thoughtfully, _‘She knows more than I thought.’_ “He and his wife, Annette, brought me to another floor of the building and into what appeared to be a well decorated studio apartment. It was there he questioned me about my business and my sexuality. He stood up, pulled down his zipper, and exposed his semi-erect cock.

“Did you suck it for him in front of his wife?”

Trying to hide his embarrassment, Stephen looked away from Michelle’s face, and said, “I had to fellate him three times. Each time he watched a different video of him and his wife violating a child. That was the first time in years I sucked off another adult male.”

“That was your passage into the underworld of child slavery and human trafficking?”

“Yes.”

“After you performed your initiation, what happened next?”

“We returned to the area of the party and I witnessed an auction of boys and girls between the ages of 5 and 11.”

“Were you allowed to bid?”

“No. As I had said, the auction was for the upcoming weekend’s pedo party. I would not become an initiated member until that weekend. Sucking off Pierre was just for his own edification and proof that I was not a police officer or federal agent.”

“Were the children kept in the building?”

“Yes, that is until they were transported to the hidden venue that is used by the members to indulge in their predilections and desires for having sex with children.”

“Is the building still in use by the members?”

“Only on the occasion of an auction prior to a party. Most times, children are brought to the hidden venue and it is a first come, first serve method of choosing a child.”

Michelle stood controlling her desire to throttle Stephen Stewart Simmons. She stepped back and leaned back against the counter, opened and closed her hands into fists, and after three minutes told Simmons what he needed to hear, “All members of the nuclear Wagner family, except for Gunther, are dead. The only surviving spouse is the sissy Michael Krauss. The spawn of the Wagner children are safe and being looked after.”

“W-W-What? They’re d-d-dead,” stuttered Stephen.

“Mabel Wagner kidnapped my children.”

“K-K-Kidnapped?” stuttered Stephen. “W-W-Why””

“Apparently she found out that I was instrumental in taking all of their money that was associated with the child abuse and sex trafficking ring. She also alluded to the fact that you were the ring’s central banker in the United States. When I took over all of your accounts, I also took the money of several very wealthy members.”

“Dumb fuckin’ cunt,” said Stephen. “I never liked that woman. You said only Gunther the cuckold sissy is alive?”

Nodding her head in the affirmative, “Only Gunther. Their children and their children’s spouses are all dead except for Krauss. I now own one hundred percent of their personal and business assets.”

Incredulous, Stephen stated more than asked, “You killed Senator Valdez’s son?”

“Yes and the Senator committed suicide when my team when to pick up him and his family. Loser took the chicken’s way out.”

“With all that you know, why are you keeping me alive?” asked Stephen as he began to sway where he leaned against the hospital bed.

“When you exposed your cock to me and told me that you wanted have sexual relations with me to solidify my acceptance of you abusing my children, I made the decision to ruin your life. My initial intention, when I went to your office, was to take your business and assets from you and then quietly end your life. Instead, I decided it would a lot more fun to watch you suffer the indignity of having to service dirty lowdown scumbags. Underlying this notion of you being some penniless prostitute was the possibility of you contracting AIDS and suffering through an agonizing death without any medical intervention. Putting a bullet in your brain was not a viable option. I need you to suffer.”

Stephen slid to the floor, rolled to his left side, pulled with a good amount of pain his knees to his chest, and began to cry like a little baby. Again, Michelle watched for a period of time before she knelt by his side and whispered, “Accept your fate, Simmons. I am going to leave you alone. I will return later and if you’re calm, I will feed you. Otherwise, I am going to sedate you and keep you that way until you wake up Sunday evening in another venue. A venue that you will not like.”

Michelle stood, walked out of the room, and locked the door from the outside.

\-------------------------

Michelle left Stephen in the basement for three-and-a-half hours before she returned. She brought a tuna fish sandwich on rye bread and a bottle of water. When she opened the door to the room she found Simmons exactly the way she had left him on his side curled up in a fetal position. She placed the tray on the counter which happed to hold the apothecary jar filled with formaldehyde and his excised genital. The possibility of her not being able to resurrect the mind of Simmons began to gnaw at her decision to emasculate him. Her decision was made and she would live with the consequences of removing the penis of a man who loved it more than life itself.

Instead of kicking him to awaken him, Michelle knelt down next to him, gently touched his right shoulder, and said, “Stephen, I brought you a sandwich and some water. I need you to get back on the bed so I can change your dressing. Please do me the favor getting your act together without me having to resort to measures that I do not want to use.”

Stephen Steward Simmons opened his eyes and said, “Why should I abide by your request? You fuckin’ have my penis in an apothecary jar. My life is over. I have nothing to live for. Fuckin’ kill me bitch.”

Michelle grabbed his right ear and forcefully twisted it causing the center of Stephen’s pain to rise from his crotch to the right side of his head. His legs shot straight down and his hands went to try to stop her from twisting his ear. Michelle relaxed her hold just enough to reduce the pain. She pulled his ear which he knew was either to rip it off of 1his head or get him to stand up. When he moved his legs to get them positioned to roll onto his knees, Michelle released her hold on his ear.

Stephen stood up, rubbed his right ear, and said, “You know I am going to fight you every step of the way. I am not going to simply rollover and submit to your insanity.”

“That is totally fine, Simmons,” replied Michelle. “I have all the time in the world. When you are at your final destination tomorrow evening, you are going to regret what you just said to me. You have two choices. First, learn to accept who and what you are now and allow me to use you as the poster boy for emasculated and repentant pedophiles. Or, second, you succumb to becoming a drug addled cum dump for any and all cocks that want to fuck a dirty emasculated dope addict. If you take the first option, you will live a decent life, albeit without the love of your life hanging between your legs. Decide to take the second option and within seventy-two hours you will be hooked on heroin and the only source of earning money to purchase said heroin will be men who come to use you. Oh, and be sure that for every cock your suck or allow to fuck you up your faggot ass, you’ll earn a whooping five dollars. Now, please get on the bed and allow me to change your dressings. Then you can eat.”

“What will I use to take a shit?” asked Stephen.

“You see the bed pan?” Michelle said as she pointed to the stainless steel object handing from a hook on the wall. “That is what you’ll use.”

Stephen closed his eyes, moaned, and then like a little petulant boy, went to the hospital bed. He gently climbed onto the bed and laid on his back. He spread his legs giving Michelle the access she needed to change his surgical dressing.

Michelle gently pulled the hospital tape from the skin of his abdomen and folded it down between is spread legs. She put a pair of neoprene gloves on before she touched the surgical closure. The scar was healing well. Per the instructions of Dr. Armstrong she covered the exposed sutures and skin with a medicinal ointment. She went to the cabinets under the counter and retrieved sever large gauze pads and additional surgical tape.

“You are going to have to raise your hips so I remove the posterior side of the dressing.”

Stephen gently raised his hips to allow Michelle to remove as painlessly as possible the surgical tape from his lower back. The entire process of changing the dressing took seventeen minutes. The old dressing was rolled up and deposited in a red container marked for biological waste.

“Would you rather stand, sit, or lie down to eat?”

“Could you adjust the bed?’

“I could; but, I won’t. You have not earned the right to be cared for like a human being. If I had my druthers, I would have put your food in a bowl and made you eat like a dog.”

Stephone rolled to his side, put his legs over the edge of the hospital bed, and stood up. He stepped over to the counter, unscrewed the cap to the bottle of water, and took a sip. He looked at the tuna fish sandwich, scrunched up his nose, and begrudgingly picked up half and took a bite. Stephen Steward Simmons had not eaten a plain tuna fish sandwich since he was a boy. His lifestyle dictated that he only eat at the best restaurants or had chefs come to his home on West End Avenue to cook special meals for him. It took him twenty-three minutes to eat the sandwich in total silence. When he was done, he turned to Michelle and said, “How are you going to handle my emotional and psychological wellbeing. I am trying with all of my might to keep from falling off an imaginary cliff into the abyss of mental illness.”

“I am more than willing to help you keep your sanity,” said Michelle. “It is incumbent on you to accept your emasculation. If you can do that, then you can with help live a life that will be nothing close to what you are used to; but, at least you’ll be alive.”

“But, I’m not alive,” said Stephen and his right hand moved to his empty crotch. “The center of my universe is no longer part of me.

“First, you need to break the habit of always touching your cock. I have noticed that when you are stressed or afraid, you immediately go to your crotch. I understand that feeling you genitals can be very soothing and relaxing. Now, you’re going to have to use other men’s genitalia to replace your lost love. Yes Stephen, it was plainly obvious from the first moment I met you that you were in love with your penis.”

“That is true; but, I am not gay. I do not get off sexually with men my age or older. My sexuality is focused on the sexual interaction between an adult and a child. You have taken from me the only way I can enjoy sex.”

“I have to give you credit for one thing. In your mind, you are not a sick pedophile. You are a sane pedophile that compartmentalizes his sexual desire for children in an area of his psyche that allows you accept the abuse of innocent children. You asked me in my office the question I am going to ask you now. Who abused you as a child?”

The question made Stephen fold his body into itself. If he could have rolled himself up into a ball, he would have done so. The demons of his abuse were buried deep within his unconscious mind. He straightened up, looked at Michelle, and said in a little boy’s voice, “I have not spoken of this for decades. My father was an elementary school principal. My mother was a pediatric nurse. Two people you would think would have the welfare of a child at the center of their lives. It turns out, hidden deep within their psyche was this aberrant sexual need that they both found about when they met in college. From the day they brought me home from the hospital until the day they both died when I was seventeen, each of them alone or together sexually abused me. I was just one of many boys and girls that they foisted their sexual deviance onto. What they did not know was at the age of twelve I started abusing the six year old girl that lived next door to us. And, the rest is history.”

“You were but an infant when the abuse started?”

“Yes. My father would place the head of his penis into my mouth and let me suck it until he ejaculated. My mother did not begin to abuse me sexually until I was three years old. According to my father, she would masturbate watching her infant son suck off her husband.” He paused, shivered, and said, “My parents like me preferred sex with children. As I grew older, I realized that they would not engage in sex together. I used to say that I knew my mother and father had sex at least one time because I am the result. Every time I asked about a brother or sister, they just waved their hands dismissing the question.”

“If you can face your demons, I believe I can help you overcome your inbred desire to abuse innocent children. Without putting a public face on your crimes, I am willing to help you help yourself. Become the poster boy for rehabilitated pedophiles. Your story can help. Otherwise, fall off the cliff into mental illness and suffer being used as two holes for cocks to masturbate in.” Michelle put her right hand to her face, thought for a moment, and said, “I did forget one thing. That last indignity and humiliation you will suffer is the removal of all of your natural teeth. When you suck cock, your patrons will revel in the feeling of smooth gums sliding up and down their shaft.”

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me,” groaned Stephen. He recovered from hearing his could lose all of his natural teeth to ask, “If I become your poster boy, I will not have to prostitute myself to men and I will keep my teeth?”

“That depends,” replied Michelle. “I am not saying you will be free of sexual encounters with men and or women. I know you will become very horny and beg to have the pressure in your balls relieved. The only way that will happen is one of two ways. Fingers inserted into your rectum to massage your prostate gland to create the sensations necessary for you to spill your seed; or, a hard cock fucking you up your ass will do the same thing. So, you are not going to be completely sexless. As the poster boy you will have an opportunity to live a somewhat decent life.”

“No children? No little boy’s cocks to suck? No little girl’s pussies to lick? No anuses to caress with my tongue and fingers?” Stephen shivered at the thought of what he had come into his consciousness when he asked, “Only men’s hard cocks ejaculating down my throat our up my faggot ass?”

Michelle smiled, licked her lips, and replied, “Correct on all counts.”

“I will assume that I will have no choice in the matter? The individuals I service, when I service them, will be individuals chosen by you?”

“Again, one hundred percent correct.”

“Since you said Sunday, I assume today is Saturday and the surgery was performed on Friday. Where will you be taking me on Sunday?”

“I will sedate you to make the travelling easier on you and to keep you from realizing where I am taking you. The building is called the _‘warehouse’_ : but, it is a converted loft building rehabilitated to fit my needs.”

“Will I be alone?” asked Stephen.

“No. Once you are considered healed, there are thirty-six men that you will be required to keep sexually satisfied. Of course, they’re free to seek sexual satisfaction from the opposite sex; but, having a sexless faggot to fuck and have suck them is something I know they’ll enjoy. No fear of pregnancy. Just a hole to masturbate their cocks to an orgasm. But, there is also the possibility that none of them will want to have any sexual contact with you. I will give you the opportunity to feminize yourself in the hopes they’ll not have an issue fucking you up your sissy ass.”

“Please just kill me,” whined Stephen. “Please!!!”

“If I told you once, I’ll tell you twice,” stated Michelle with a definite anger in her voice, “a bullet to your brain will not make you suffer. I want you to suffer. So, I am not going to end your life; because, you are a sniveling scared little boy.”

“Just leave me alone.”

Michelle picked up the tray, left the room, and made sure the act of turning the lock was loud enough for Simmons to hear so that he knew he was unable to leave where he was presently situated.


	10. Sunday, May 26, 2019 – Private Estate, Old Brookville, NY and the ‘Warehouse’, Yonkers, NY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triple S moves to the Warehouse, Gunther Wagner learns his fate, Michael Krauss losses, Michele maintains order among her troops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Sunrise filtered through the large windows that were specially designed, built, and installed in the massive logs that created the exterior walls of the mansion. They were two inches thick and one hundred percent bulletproof. The special glass was tested prior to final manufacture and per specifications could stop a .50 caliber bullet at two thousand yards. The other test completed by the manufacturer was only known to Michelle and her husband. The special formulated glass would stop a 40mm cannon round from any distance. Michelle released her hold on the pillow that her husband’s head always rested on, stretched her lithe musculature, and actually jumped out of bed. She taped the screen on her iPhone noted she awoke thirty minutes before her normal time of 5:30AM.

Sunday mornings were reserved for a sit down breakfast with the children. Prior to her husband’s murder, they would gather in the breakfast area and debate what they were going to eat. The choices were always the same, French Toast, Belgium Waffles, Pancakes with or without fruit in them, and all forms of hard boiled, soft boiled, and fried egg dishes. As she stood in the kitchen, Michelle began to sway as she remembered how much she missed her husband. If it was only one of the assholes that attacked him on the Pont Marie in Paris, he would still be alive. Three men was a bit more than he could handle; because, he was unarmed. With all of his worldwide connections, France was the only country that denied him a Concealed Carry Permit.

Michelle made her twelve cup pot of her redeye coffee and sat at the oak breakfast table reviewing the data on Richard Nathan Weinstein. As the pot brewed her coffee, she again became frustrated at having to broach RNW’s yacht to secure him for interrogation. As she flipped the pages of her, as yet unfinished dossier, her cell phone rang. She frowned when she saw it was an international call.

“Michelle,” was all she said to the caller.

“Madame Cooper,” the heavy French accented English said in response to her name. “I am calling to inform you that you have opened, how do you say it in America, a _‘can of worms’_.

“C’est votre boite de vers Monsieur Pedophile,” replied Michelle in perfect Parisian French. “ _It is your can of worms Mister Pedophile.”_

“Mon dieu!!!” cried the voice at the other end. “How. . .”

“I have reach you can only imagine Pierre,” said Michelle in a hard edged voice. She purposely returned to her native language, “You and your friends worldwide are in for a world of hurt. How much did I take from you?”

Growling, Pierre Lemaire spat, “You fuckin’ took all of the money I kept hidden from the French Ministry of Taxation and Finance. I want it back or I will ruin you, la pute!!!” _“Bitch”_

Michelle laughed and said with glee in her voice, “You earned that money selling children to pedophiles. You partook in the sale and abuse of innocent children. What you need to do Lemaire is to keep looking over your shoulder; because, I am coming for you.”

“You and your family are not safe,” spat Pierre. “I will take my pound of flesh from you. Then I will personally rape your children.”

“Wait!!!” cried Michelle. “How are you going to rape my children when you will not have a sex organ to do it with?”

“I know you murdered the Wagner family. I know you gained access to Simmons’ vault and the data it stored,” spat Lemaire. “I have my contacts. Your life as you know it is over.”

With that statement, Pierre Lemaire ended the call.

Michelle was stunned at Pierre Lemaire’s pronouncement of his knowledge of her ending the life of the Wagner family, as well as the taking down of Simmons. Did Senator Valdez make a phone call before he offed himself? Was his wife truly complicit with his pedo desires? She knew or believed it was impossible for the Wagner family to have made an international phone call. The same went for Stephen Simmons. Angelina did not have the strength of character or backbone to make a call to save Simmons. For her, the only explanation was that someone in her employ was a double agent, mole, or just out for a quick payday. As much as she hated to have to do it, once Simmons was placed into his holding cell, she would begin the process to find out if her worst thoughts were true. A mole for the pedo world could only mean one and only one thing. He, himself was an abuser of children.

Her appetite was gone. She noted the time and decided to move Stephen Stewart Simmons earlier than desired. First she would have to change her clothing into something that would allow her to move with ease in case she needed to become physical. From a pair of denim jeans, work shirt, and sneakers, she changed into a pair of khaki military pants, a khaki four pocket tunic type shirt, and a pair of light weight jungle boots. The pants and shirt would allow her to hide important hand weapons so they would be easily accessible. Once she checked and doubled-checked her appearance, she gathered her go bag, and made her way to the basement.

She unlocked the door to Simmons quasi-hospital room and was surprised to see him lying on the bed acting as if he was masturbating. She wanted more than anything to take his preserved cock out of the jar and use it to slap him across his face. Instead she just stood for a moment before coughing loud enough to inform Simmons she was in the room.

Stephen Stewart Simmons hand froze as if he was caught pleasuring himself. He opened his eyes, turned his head, and said, “Caught me. . .”

“Ok, here’s the deal,” said Michelle without acknowledging what she was watching him doing. “I am going to change your dressing. Then you are going to walk with me upstairs carrying your urine bag so I can place you in the rear of my GMC Yukon XL. I am going put a black thick denim bag over your head. Then I am going to strap you into the rear of the vehicle. You’re going to be a good little boy and not do anything stupid.”

“Where are we headed?” asked Stephen.

“We’re headed to an interim venue where you can heal and think about how you want to live the rest of your miserable fuckin’ life,” said Michelle with finality.

The emasculated pedophile did not stop his tormentor from changing the dressing that covered the area of his body where the love of his life used to hang. He did not fight when Michelle took his hands, placed them behind \his back, and attached a pair of white FlexiCuffs around his wrists and then did the same to his ankles. To make sure he followed her without causing any problems, Michelle placed a thick leather collar around his neck to which she attached a seven foot heavy leather leash.

“Follow me,” said Michelle. “Do not fuck with me because I am in no mood for any bullshit.”

From underneath the heavy denim hood, Stephen said, “Yes, ma’am.”

Twenty-seven minutes after opening the door to the quasi-hospital room, Simmons was strapped into the back of the GMC Yukon XL, and she was on the road towards the Bronx. Using driving tradecraft, Michelle made the drive longer than using a direct route. She kept her eyes on the road in front of her and in her rearview mirrors to make sure she was not being followed. Because of her insistence on being overly careful when travelling to the operations warehouse, she added as much as two hours to the drive.

Her actual destination was Pierpointe Street in Yonkers, New York. The operations warehouse in its prime was a six story loft building used by four different manufacturing companies. When Michelle’s husband purchased it, it was a dilapidated building just waiting to be demolished. It took three years to gut and renovate the old brick building into a hidden military fortress. All of the floors were opened so only the support columns were visible. The first floor had structural steel beams installed to secure the second floor so no columns were needed to support the floor. The second through sixth floor were built out to house conference rooms, secure communications rooms, and housing. The basement was converted into an underground garage, receiving dock, armory, and single room occupancy secure rooms to keep special individuals housed. On the second floor, there was a complete commercial kitchen consisting of grills, ovens, refrigerators, and walk-in freezers. Anything delivered to the building was brought in via the basement and brought to the upper floors via specially designed and built elevators. Vendors were vetted and approved before they could do business with Michelle and at the time, her husband.

Fifteen minutes out, Michelle placed a call to Alpha One. When she arrived at the building, the rear door to the basement was open, and guarded by four members of Delta Team who had the watch. They waved her in and pressed the button to close the door behind her.

Alpha One approached and asked, “Is everything ok?”

“No,” she responded, “but, first we need to get the asshole in the rear of the Yukon out and placed in one of the secure hospital rooms in the basement.”

“Is he sick or something?” asked Alpha One.

“Yeah, he’s sick in the head,” replied Michelle. “He is the pedophile that ran the modeling and talent agency. Friday he had his cock removed and his testicles placed inside his body. I have taken everything from him. Once he has recovered from the surgery, he better have made his choice as to how he is going to live the rest of his life. But, that is not important. Get him situated and meet me in my private office.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Alpha One.

Michelle slung her go bag over her shoulder and as she strode to the staircase closest to her office she heard Alpha One instruct the men where to take Stephen Stewart Simmons. Once settled into her office on the sixth floor, she called down to the kitchen and ordered any sandwich and a pot of coffee. The cook knew how she liked everything made; so, when it arrived she was not surprised to see a lean roast beef sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and Russian dressing on her plate next to small amount of deep fried potatoes and a green salad. A large thermos of red-eye brewed coffee sat next to her mug on the tray. First order of business was pouring a mug of coffee and taking three deeps swallows before putting it down and refilling it. Then she picked up the roast beef sandwich and took two giant bites and was chewing just as Alpha One arrived.

Once she swallowed, she stood, pointed to the trio of chairs that sat directly in front of her conference table desk, and said, “Please, take a seat.”

Alpha One sat in the center of the three arm chairs that were situated in front of the 60x36 inch conference table she used as a desk. His given name is Wade Everett Callahan. At 53, he was the oldest member of the six teams of six men employed by Michelle Cooper. He enlisted in the United States Navy after graduating from Kansas State University with a degree in Business Administration. He attended college to keep from being disowned by his parents who wanted him to study agriculture and animal husbandry; so, he could return and manage the family farm. The day after graduation, Wade enlisted in Naval Officer Training to the absolute anger of his parents. Two years into his first six year enlistment, he applied for and was accepted into BUD/S – Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training. The twenty-four weeks of training is the selection training used to becoming a U.S. Navy SEAL. Twenty-eight years after his entry into the world of SEAL Operations, he retired as a Captain without ever having to sit behind a desk. Wade Callahan stood six feet six-and-a-half inches in his bare feet. He maintained a weight of 185 pounds which was considered light for his height. His daily training routine made younger men shiver and figuratively _‘shit their draws’_ at its intensity. He trained as a sniper; but, added explosives technician, armorer, and medical tech to his operator’s knowledge base. Once he was out of the Navy, it took two years of working in the private sector for him to seek out work more in tune with his military background. He knew who to call. The deal was brokered between Michelle’s husband and Wade over a steak dinner at Peter Luger’s in Brooklyn. As they say, the rest is history.

“I, we have a problem,” started Michelle. “Seems we have a double-agent working in our midst.”

Wade leaned forward not believing what his employer just expressed and said, “Excuse me; but, are you blowing smoke up my ass?”

Michelle booted her computer. When it was operational, she made secure encrypted VPN contact with the supercomputer. She found the phone call from Pierre Lemaire and played it for Alpha One. She watched his face as it went from a joking look to one of absolute disbelief and anger. Wade sat back and just started at his employer.

“Before we get into the nitty gritty of finding if we do have a traitor amongst our men,” said Michelle, “is there anything I need to resolve?”

Alpha One nodded and said, “Gunther Wagner is a problem, ma’am. We’ve kept him is a twilight state and every time we bring back to a form of consciousness he becomes agitated and aggressive. How much longer do we have to put up with that Kraut asshole?” He paused, rubbed his chin, and said, “I really do not know what to do with that. . .” Again he paused trying to find the right words.

Michelle ended his quandary when she said having interrupted his pause to find the right words. “The cuckold sissy faggot. What can that wimp be doing that is driving you guys crazy?”

“Just being his fuckin’ self,” spat Callahan. He said nothing more about Krauss.

Michelle did not mind the use of expletives when talking about individuals, situations, or operations. She nodded and said, “Gunther Wagner will calm down when he sees the individual I just brought to the warehouse. His name is Stephen Stewart Simmons. He was the proprietor of Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency. You know that we went to the Wagner’s penthouse to find out where they had taken my children. You know that I am hell bent to break the back of the worlds’ largest and worst child sexual abuse and trafficking organization. Simmons was one of their primary sources for children; but, he also rose to become one of two central bankers for their illicit trade. I had him emasculated. There is nothing between his legs and when Gunther Wagner sees what I did to him, I know he will cease being a problem. If he continues, I will use enhanced interrogation to gain the information I need from him, and then I will terminate him. As far as Krauss goes, he will fall into place when he see Simmons. If not, he is useless and not worth my time.”

“May I speak freely, ma’am?” asked Callahan.

“Protocol says you should always ask; but, when we are alone, I expect nothing less.”

“Wagner and Krauss are the least of your problems. If we have an operator who has broken the oath he swore to when he was on active duty, then we need to nip it in the bud,” he paused, and finished with an emphatic, “yesterday.”

Michelle nodded her head in the affirmative. She picked up her mug of coffee, took a swallow, and said, “I was thinking about bringing the team leaders in to discuss the issue.”

Before she could continue, Callahan interjected, “I don’t think you need to have a meeting with them. As you know, I keep a tight watch on my men. There are two teams that I believe may have the traitor in their midst. I would bring the individual team leader to confirm and then invite the individual into the meeting.”

“I want them to enter my office together,” countered Michelle. “I need a quick resolution to the problem.” She paused for a moment and then asked,” Isn’t it protocol for an entire team to meet and discuss any operational or personnel issues?”

“Yes; but, this is beyond the _‘need-to-know’_ of the individual team members and we are not bound by the Uniform Code of Military Justice. As I stated, there are two teams that could harbor the traitor. I know because two of the team leaders have expressed doubts about an individual in their unit.”

“Shall we move to the conference room?”

“No. Let’s do it here. You can secure your office and it will be a bit less intimidating for the individual being placed under the microscope.”

“Who is first?”

“We’ll start with Bravo Team.”

\-------------------------

Bravo One and Bravo Three entered Michelle’s office and were told to sit at the small table in the corner away from the interior window wall. As Michelle made her way from her desk, she held a remote control that performed several functions. The first button deactivated an electrical charge that resulted in the clouding of the glass of the interior wall windows. A second button activated the electric motors that allowed the heavy metal shutters to descend from the interior side of the exterior wall windows. The last function performed by the single push of a third button on the remote was the activation the electronic eavesdropping protocols for her office. As designed by her husband, when sealed, the office functioned as a SCIF – Sensitive Compartment Information Facility.

Once everyone was seated, Michelle did not mince words when she stated, “We are here to ascertain if we have a traitor among the members of Bravo Team.”

“What the fuck!!!” growled Bravo One.

Bravo Three sat quiet. His body hid whatever he was thinking and his facial expression was one of total calm. Inside, he knew it wasn’t him. What he faced was admitting to something that he had kept hidden deep in his unconscious mind.

“Bravo One and Bravo Three,” started Michelle, “I have brought you into this meeting based upon field reports from Alpha One and my own observations. As your employer, I have called this meeting to ascertain whether or not I have a problem in the Bravo Team. I will question both of you about your work and your desire to be part of this off-the-books commando unit.”

Bravo Three, without being asked a question, spoke to his employer, “I never had an issue taking down terrorists, dictators, or asshole businessmen. I am not afraid of getting into situations where I could not come out alive. The operation in New York City did not sit well with me. I would rather speak to you alone, ma’am. There are personal things that I would rather not reveal in front of my team leader and Alpha One.”

“Bravo Three,” said Michelle, “I know you do not know the underlying who, what, when, where, and why of my decision to take on the world’s largest child abuse and trafficking organization. They are not a terrorist organization or a public company that is hiding something sick and nefarious. They are actually a loosely connected organization of politicians, businessmen, and religious leaders that are nothing more than low life pedophiles. What about it bothers you?”

“If you please ma’am,” said Bravo Three, “it is personal.”

“So were my reasons for establishing a black-ops war against them,” said Michelle. She sat stone faced across the table for a moment before she stated without any hint of remorse for stating what she knew in her gut to be true, “I believe you were abused as a child. Just like I was.”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” said Bravo Three. “I am not. . .”

Michelle leaned forward and said, “What is said in this room stays in this room. By your facial expression and the tenseness of your body musculature, you are fighting to admit something that you have buried deep into your unconscious mind. I know what you are going through. I am going to open a private door into my world for you. I am going to help you deal with the abuse you suffered as a child. You can beat it if you are willing to face it.”

“An open door, ma’am?” asked Bravo Three.

“Yes. From this moment forward, all you have to do is ask me for some private time. If I read your request and I deem I need to clear my calendar, I will. Otherwise, I will make time for you when it is convenient for both of us. Your team leader and Alpha One will not deter you from sitting and talking to me. What you say to me is between us and only us.”

“Do I have so say anything now?” asked Bravo Three.

“I’m sorry to say it; but, yes. You have to open the box of pain you’ve keep closed and hidden in your mind. I need to know what you are telling me is the truth. I have been through it. I will know if you are bullshitting me.”

Bravo Three looked from Michelle to his team leader and to Alpha One. His hands rested on this thighs and as he decided to open up about his abuse, they started to move from his crease of his hips to then bend of his knees. Bravo Three took a breath and said, “My uncle, my mother’s younger brother, raped me when I was six years old. He came to babysit me while my parents went to take care of my father’s mother for two weeks.”

Michelle asked, “How long did it last?”

“He abused me until I was fifteen years old. He told me he loved me and I believed him.”

“What stopped him?” asked Michelle.

“He was busted by the FBI for being an actor in a film that portrayed the actual rape of a five year old boy.” Bravo Three paused, put his hands to his face, and used them to wipe the tears that had started to fill his eyes. He dropped them and said, “That is when I knew he did not love me.”

“No pedophile loves the child he abuses,” said Michelle. “So you’ll understand that I am serious about helping you, I was raped and abused by my father and his friends. Never deny that you were a victim. My door is forever open to you and you alone to discuss whatever you need to discuss with me.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Bravo Three. For the first time in years, he did not feel alone or that I was the cause of his abuse.

Michelle looked directly into Bravo One’s eyes and said, “Nothing leaves this office. You do not treat him any differently in front of the men. Bravo Three comes to you seeking my counsel and help, you approve it. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Bravo One. “He has my confidence and complete trust. He is an excellent operator.”

Michelle turned to Alpha One and said, ’Echo Team is next.”

\-------------------------

Echo One and Echo Five entered Michelle’s office and took the seats just vacated by Bravo One and Bravo Three. Both men noticed that the office was darkened and in a one-hundred percent secure modality.

For the second time that afternoon, Michelle did not mince words when she stated, “We are here to ascertain if we have a traitor among the members of Echo Team.”

Echo One did not immediately cry foul or try to make anything of Michelle’s statement. Intellectually, he had issues with Echo Five and some of that doubt and concern could be read in his field reports. Echo One knew both Michelle and Alpha One were aware of his doubts about Echo Five.

Echo Five sat stone faced. He did not offer to speak on his own behalf. His silence opened a door in Michelle’s thinking that could only point to him as being the bad seed in the operation.

“Fine,” said Michelle. She turned to Echo Five and said, “Are you having a problem at home? With an outside source? Are you having financial problems?”

Echo Five’s face changed from a calm outward demeanor to a sneer as his eyes shot daggers towards Michelle. “What are you intimating?”

Michelle stood, leaned into the small round conference table, and spat, “I am intimating that you may have accepted money to give certain individuals information about the Wagner operation. Give me your cell phone.”

Echo Five’s face changed. He responded, “No.”

Echo One turned to his operator and said, “I know you have two cell phones. Give her both or I will personally kick the shit out of you and hand them to her myself.” With that statement made, Echo One held out his hand.

“I am not giving you my operational or my personal cell phone,” said Echo Five. “I have not done anything wrong.” He attempted to stand and was summarily shoved back down into his seat by Echo One.

Both team leaders saw the smoke and steam starting to seep from Michelle’s ears. Her eyes had changed into a foreboding dark black color. Neither of the men had ever seen her so fuckin’ mad. And, neither man knew how to bring her back from the edge. Echo One kept a tight hold on Echo Five. The accused operator saw the anger on his employer’s face and within seconds relaxed enough for Echo One to loosen his grip on his shoulder.

Michelle reached behind her back and removed a Smith & Wesson Model 41 Target Pistol chamber in .22L. It is designed and built for target shooting; but, it has been known to be used by professional assassins because of its accuracy. With the correct small caliber bullet, it packed a big enough punch to seriously injure a human being. She laid the weapon on the table in front of her and said, “Do not tempt me Echo Five. If I have to, I will lock you up, return to my office, and within thirty minutes have every fuckin’ phone call you made on both phones. If you have nothing to hide, then hand them over.”

Sweat broke out on Echo Five’s forehead and upper lip. SEALS are trained to face any and all obstacles and use several breathing techniques to reduce pain and stress. His eyes started wandering from his team leader to Alpha One to Michelle. Something was wrong and he was having a hard time controlling his increasing level of stress. For a second time he tried to stand. Echo One saw it coming, stood, and using both hands on Echo Five’s shoulders, pushed him back into his seat.

“You have an opportunity to make good,” said Michelle. “Explain to me your situation and if you give me everything, I may just allow you to slide. You won’t leave this building; but, you’ll be alive.”

Echo Five tried but failed to stand a third time. He raised his hands, palms out, and said, “Enough!!! What do you want to know?”

“First I want your phones,” spat Michelle.

Echo One released the pressure on Echo Five’s shoulders which allowed him to reach into his pockets to retrieve both cell phones. He placed them on the small round conference table in front of where he sat.

“Passwords?” said Michelle.

“Six digit date of birth,” replied Echo Five.

Alpha One picked up both phones and entered Echo Five’s date of birth in a month, day, and four digit year format. Both phones opened giving him access to everything. The unit phone was not an issue. The men knew that Michelle kept a tight rein on what they could do with the phones. What they did not know is every phone was tracked by the supercomputer at her residence. On his personal phone, Alpha One noticed there were icons that were password protected. He looked at Echo Five and said, “Passwords for the icons and tell me if there are any hidden directories.”

Echo Five took a deep breath before responding to the password question. He said, “it is capital F small u c k capital M small i c h e l l e.”

Alpha One shook his head as he opened the four password protected applications. First one was the mobile version of the TOR - The Onion Router - privacy and deep web browser, second one was for a deep web encrypted email provider, third one was a financial app, and the fourth was an external bookmarks file to deep web pornography sites. He put the phone on the conference table and slid it to Michelle. He said nothing; because, if he did, Echo Five would be dead.

Michelle picked up the phone and entered the proper password to open the operating system. She followed the order Alpha One used when accessing the password protected applications. Dark Web access did not faze her, as it was used by her operators when necessary; but, this was on his personal unauthorized cell phone. The email provider surprised her because it used a 128 byte encryption that meant only people using the software could read each other’s emails. She accessed the contact list and found only two entries with no names just phone numbers. The financial applications exposed that he had an account on Grand Cayman Island that had a balance of two point five million dollars. Before she opened the last application she said, “Echo Five, do not make me spin my wheels accessing the account in the bank on Grand Cayman.”

“Why should I,” said Echo Five. “I have not done anything wrong.”

“You accepted money to give operational parameters to individuals that want to put a permanent end to my operations,” said Michelle. “You are a fuckin’ spy. A fuckin’ mole. You have no rights in this court.”

“What I do in my private life is none of your fuckin’ business,” spat Echo Five.

Michelle opened the bookmarks application, eyed the entries, and said, “You’re into child pornography; but, not the vanilla type. You’re into watching children get hurt. You get off listening to children cry and beg for their lives.”

Echo Five did not respond to Michelle’s inquiry. He felt safe behind the wall of _‘what I do in my private time is my business’_ rule of common law.

Michelle stood and went to her desk, topped off her coffee mug, and returned to the small conference table. She sat and sipped her coffee for several minutes. She watched Echo Five’s face for any telltale facial micro tics. SEALS were trained to lie and to bear pain as if it was just another part of their working day. Alpha One understood her methods. He knew she was trying to unhinge Echo Five. For Echo One, all he wanted was permission to toss Echo Five into the Hudson River with five hundred pounds of weight tied to his body.

Twenty-three minutes passed before Michelle said, “On your personal cell phone are two phone numbers only. No contact names or pseudonyms. Surprise, surprise. The first number called me this morning. It belongs to Pierre Lemaire. . .”

Echo Five tried to escape Michelle’s office. Alpha One and Echo One took him down before he could do any damage to the furniture or himself. Both men kept him pinned to the floor and it took a good seven minutes for Echo Five to stop fighting the inevitable. He was busted caught red-handed.

Michelle went to a small cabinet beside her desk and retrieved a dark black denim hood. She returned to where Echo Five lay, knelt by his head, and said in a calm voice, “You’re finished. I am going to ask you to give me what I want or I am going to take you downstairs, place you in three by three cell, and use the worst enhanced interrogation methods to get you to spill your guts to me. Then I am going to bring you upstairs, tie you to hooks from the ceiling and the floor, and allow every member of Echo Team to use whatever method they care to, to cause you cry out in pain. You’ll die a very slow death. Talk to me now and I will allow you to live.”

“If I talk,” said Echo Five, “you’ll guarantee my safety?”

“No,” replied Michelle. “You’re a fuckin’ pedo. If I let you live, I’ll turn you into a drug addled cocksucker.”

“Then I’d rather die,” spat Echo Five.

Michelle retrieved Smith & Wesson Model 41 from the conference table and placed the working end of the target pistol against the bridge of Echo Five’s nose and spat, “I’ll fuckin’ off you right here. Tell me you want to die. I really don’t need to know why Lemaire made contact with you. By the CP sites and chat rooms in your TOR browser bookmarks, I know he found you on the dark web. Your choice Echo Five. Talk to me and live or die right now.”

The memory of a previous or multiple childhood events forced Echo Five to begin to shake and cry like a little boy. The press of the S&W Model 41 barrel was enough to break the dam of controlled memories. Without warning, he cried out, “Please do not hurt me!!! I’ll be a good boy!!! Please don’t hurt me!!! I’ll do what you want!! Please!!!”

Michelle pulled the gun back, stood, and said to Alpha One and Echo One, “Release him. He is not going to be a problem anymore. Stand him up and put him in the chair. Do not for a minute think he’s totally in control. At any moment, he could resort to physical options to protect himself.”

Alpha One without Echo One’s help, pulled Echo Five to his feet and forcibly shoved him back into the chair where he was originally seated. Both team leasers stood on either side of him. The fury was controlled; but, they knew there was something deep inside the operator that caused him to work against the team rather than with them.

Michelle did not holster the Smith & Wesson semi-automatic pistol. She kept it in her right hand. The reaction of Echo Five to being hurt was strong evidence that he was abused as a boy. The abuse foisted upon him was of the worst kind and that he survived it only pointed to his ability to make it into the SEALS. No matter how bad he had been tortured as a boy, his decision to side with the pedophile organization and turn against his operations group was enough evidence to terminate his employment. The decision Michelle had to make was, if he was worth saving.

“Echo Five,” said Michelle, “I know you were physically beat up and tortured as a boy. Your reaction to me placing the working end of the weapon against the bridge of your nose was enough to elicit your fear of being tortured. I have a decision to make. I can simply put a bullet into your brain or I can listen to your story of torture and abuse with the option of turning you into a double agent. But, let me make this perfectly clear, you will never operate for this black-ops group again.”

Echo Five began to use the controlled breathing he was taught to control his stress and pain levels. He did not try to get either of the men holding him in the chair to reduce their pressure. He did not look anyone in the eye, he simply kept his gaze on a spot on the table directly in front of him. He sat for a good six minutes before he spoke, “I was put into foster care at the age of two when my mother finally succumbed to her heroin addiction. My father abandoned me before I was born. I never knew my biological father. When I passed BUD/S I tried to find him. According to the Illinois Correctional System, my father was murdered in prison. The first family that took me in did it for two reasons – money from the state and money from allowing men to abuse me. There were eight children in the house. All were under the age of eleven or twelve. Once any of their foster children began or went through puberty, they handed them back to the Child Services Department. I was one of the unlucky ones. I got to stay with them. My foster father loved to whip me with a cat-o-nine tails. He had sex with me every night. He preferred my asshole to his wife’s pussy. Because she was not getting regular sex from him, she would beat me with a wooden spoon. When she had enough she would force me to bend over so she could penetrate me with the handle. I shutdown all of my emotions. I was told I was being punished because I was a bad boy. I lived in that hellish environment until to aged out of the system. On my eighteenth birthday, I joined the Navy. Applied for SEAL training as soon as the option was open to me. I used my ability to not feel any pain to get through BUD/S.” Echo Five paused for a moment and then asked, “Any chance I could get a bottle of water. No games. I’m thirsty.”

Michelle nodded to Alpha One. He knew where she kept a stash of cold water in her office. He returned with three bottles knowing that Michelle would only drink her specially brewed coffee. He opened the bottle and placed it in front of Echo Five. The operator lifted the bottle and drained it three huge gulps. He placed the empty bottle on the small conference table and sat for moment before continuing.

“I was in Afghanistan when I knew I had to have something more than I was getting sexually. I learned of the Afghani Bacha Bazi boys. Boys that were forced to dress as girls, dance for their tribal leader, and succumb to his sexual advances. I used my Urdu language ability and intelligence to make contact and keep secret my association with four tribal leaders. All of them allowed me to physically abuse the youngest of the Bacha Bazi boys under their control. Their conditions were twofold. Give them US dollars and military operational intelligence.

“The first time I beat the shit out of an eight year old boy I ejaculated three times. As he was bleeding from his mouth and nose, I rolled him onto his belly and butt fucked him. That was the start of my underground life as a lover of _‘hurtcore’_ child abuse and pornography. The four tribal leaders accepted my deviant behavior because I was supplying them with money and intelligence. What they did not know about the intelligence would have gotten me killed. It was all false.

“Once I left Afghanistan and returned to the United States, I knew I could not continue with my addiction while on active duty. I finished my second six year enlistment and went searching for individuals and couples that were as sick-in-the-head as I was when it came to hurting children for sexual pleasure. I have continued that deviant behavior since that first time in Afghanistan. I used everything I could to keep it under the radar. I failed when Pierre Lemaire made contact with me. He blackmailed me into providing him information about you and your operation. Besides offering me access to boys, he made it economically profitable to rat you out. The money in the Grand Cayman account are the proceeds I earned. It also gave me the economic standing to become part of the underground child abuse and trafficking ring. Sad, but true, I would do it all over again. I am a product of my upbringing and abuse.”

“Then I shall assume you will not help us by becoming a double agent?” asked Michelle.

Echo Five gave his one word answer, “No.”

Before anyone could react, Michelle double-tapped Echo Five between his eyes. Neither Alpha One nor Echo One reacted negatively to her reaction to Echo Five’s narrative and negative answer to becoming a double agent. Michelle simply said to the men, “Take him out so all of the men can see what happens to traitors. Then call a team leader meeting to commence in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes ma’am,” both Alpha One and Echo One said simultaneously.

\-------------------------

Michelle used the fifteen minute break to check in on Stephen Stewart Simmons. She arrived to find him sitting comfortably on a hospital bed just staring off into space.

“Simmons,” she said, “how are you doing?”

Stephen turned his head and said, “How do you expect me to be? You removed my cock. So, fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

“Fine with me,” was Michelle’s response. “I have to attend to some business before I can return to speak with you. I suggest you make up your mind about the two choices I gave you.

Michelle turned and departed for her private conference room.

\-------------------------

Alpha One, Bravo One, Charlie One, Delta One, Echo One, and Foxtrot One entered the large conference room attached to Michelle’s private office. They took their assigned seats, and waited for their boss to explain why they were called into a company meeting. Last time a meeting like this one was called was after the death of her husband. Each team leader knew that if Michelle Cooper called a once-in-a-blue-moon meeting, something was definitely in need of an explanation.

Michelle entered with her thermos, mug, and the dossier she had on Richard Nathan Weinstein. She placed the items on the conference table, opened a small electronics drawer at her end of the table, and pressed two buttons. The first cut the electricity keeping the floor to ceiling glass on the interior side of the conference room clear. The glass immediately clouded. The second button lowered the same type of shutters she had in her office on the exterior side of the room. Her office and private conference room was a fortress inside a fortress. Both spaces were built to stop all attempts at electronic eavesdropping and were actually built to the specifications of a SCIF and Faraday cage. The fourth button lowered a one-hundred seventy-five inch QLED 8K television.

“Gentlemen,” she started, “thank you for all you do for my family. Thank you for your service. I will be long winded; but, it is imperative that I explain my reaction to what was a very bad situation. This morning I received an international phone call from an individual named Pierre Lemaire. It was a short conversation. It provided me with enough intelligence to begin an investigation of all six teams. Before any of you say anything, I know all of you heard the echo of two gunshots. I am going to tell you that Echo Five is dead by my hand. He sold out this private mercenary group because of his need for money. There are other circumstances; but, that is of no concern to you or your team members. Alpha One and Echo One will be responsible for the disposal of his remains and his personal effects. I will not entertain questions about this incident of espionage.

“As for the individual I brought here late this morning, his name is Stephen Stewart Simmons. He was the owner of Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency. I took everything of value from him. This past Friday I emasculated him. I took from him the one thing he loved most in this world. Sitting temporarily on a shelf in a room in the basement of my house is an apothecary jar filled with formaldehyde and his penis. It did not take as long as I thought it would; but, Simmons spilled enough of his guts to give me a name that could open a lot of doors into the leadership and members of the child abuse and trafficking ring.”

Michelle poured more coffee into her mug and returned to recounting what occurred between Friday and her arrival at the warehouse. Although she lowered the television, she had not decided if she was going to use it. She continued, “It turns out the Wagners introduced him to the individual that could approve his entrance without having to call a vote of the executive members. Simmons loved to have sex with young children. I ended that when I took his manhood from him. As we spoke of his entrance into the organization, he gave me the name of the man he had to fellate to prove he was worthy of joining. The man he fellated is Pierre Lemaire.”

Michelle picked up her mug, took two swallows, and said, “Name ring a bell?”

All the men nodded in the negative.

“The operation at that Wagner residence gave us the name of the individual who presently controls the organization in the United States. His name is Richard Nathan Weinstein.”

Bravo One exhaled and said to no one in particular, “The owner of the largest casino company in the world. That asshole is a pedo?”

“Apparently so,” replied Michelle. “Lemaire is his counterpart in Europe. Weinstein is our next target of opportunity. Echo Team will be down a man and I am not going to hire another operator until after we take care of Weinstein. I have put together a dossier on Weinstein; but, it is far from finished. His main living space is the top two floors of his casino in Las Vegas. The building is touted as the world’s tallest casino at one hundred and forty-five stories. He also has houses in Southampton on Long Island, South Beach in Florida, a ranch in the hills overlooking Los Angeles, a villa at the tip of Cape Martin in Monaco, and a small chateau on the Ile Saint-Louis in Paris. Those are not the issue we have to deal with. Weinstein owns one of the world’s largest yachts at six hundred and sixty-five feet. He has taken to spending ninety percent of his time onboard. By the end of the day, I will have complete schematics and engineering drawings of the yacht. What I want from you gentlemen is an operational scenario to capture Weinstein on his floating home.”

Foxtrot One asked, “Where does he dock the yacht and why can’t we take it when it is tied up?”

“Because he spends most of his time at sea,” responded Michelle.

“He needs to refuel,” said Delta One. “That means he has to come into port, unless he is so fuckin’ wealthy he brings a fuel tender out to top off his diesel tanks.”

“Possible,” said Michelle. “His travels are not monitored the way airplanes are by the FAA.”

“True,” said Delta One, “but, he still has to arrange dock space large enough to bring the yacht in to refuel. I imagine there are not a lot of marinas that can handle a yacht that size. Six hundred and sixty-five feet from stem-to-stern is one big motherfuckin’ boat.”

Charlie One interjected, “Beside fuel, he needs sustenance. Food has to be brought out to the yacht or the docks to be restocked.”

“Very true,” said Michelle. She looked around the table before she said, “Why don’t we wait until I receive the blueprints. Then we can decide if we want to try an at sea takedown and capture operation.”

Alpha One chimed in, “Guess we’ll have to get out swim gear out and start training for a long underwater operation.”

Michelle’s cell phone rang. She looked at the screen and said, “Gentlemen, you’ll have to excuse me. I have to take this call. Continue the meeting or you can adjoin to your space to discuss the methodology you’d like to use if we go with an at sea operation.” She stood and said, “I think we should consider that we may have to capture him at one of his homes; so, let’s keep them as viable solutions.”

\-------------------------

Michelle stepped into her office before she pressed the green icon to answer her iPhone.

“Hello Bridgette,” said Michelle abandoning her usual response when answering an incoming phone call.

“Hello Michelle,” responded Bridgette. “I am calling to inquire as to what time you would like me to bring Constance and Charles home.”

“Would you be able to handle them without Charlie Team at the house?”

“I could; but, if there is a breach of the perimeter fence, I will not be able to respond.”

‘I understand. I do not think I will be home until Monday afternoon at the earliest. And, it could roll into Tuesday.”

“Should I be worried, ma’am?”

“Not in the least. I have some planning that needs to be completed and it may take longer than I expect. I am not concerned about anyone coming to the house to do my family or me harm.”

“Constance and Charles to school on Monday?”

“Absolutely. Do not let them work their magic to get you to let them to stay home.”

“Understood.” Then out of the blue, Bridgette said, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” said Michelle. “You’ll excuse me, but I have to go.”

Michelle ended the phone call.

\-------------------------

Before Michelle went to Gunter Wagner’s cell, she stopped by Michael Krauss’ cell. She peered into his little piece of hell and immediately saw what was driving Callahan crazy. As she watched for a few minutes, she thought of a solution to the problem. Once it was solidified in her mind, she slipped the key into the lock, and opened the cell door.

Michael Krauss was covered in cum. Apparently from the moment he was placed into his new home, Krauss did nothing but jerk off. He did not attempt to clean up his mess. It was on his stomach, his legs, and all over his bed. The only way he could cope with his solitary confinement was to masturbate continuously. The small cell smelled of cum.

Callahan remained just outside the entrance to the cell. His face told Michelle everything she needed to know about Krauss’ lack of psychological and emotional control.

“Michael,” said Michelle. She waited for a response and none came. Krauss was totally centered on masturbating to control his psychological well-being. She turned to Callahan and simply said, “A bucket of ice cold water, please.”

Callahan returned with two five gallon buckets filled to the brim with the coldest water he could find. He nodded to Michelle and took one of the buckets and poured it all over the still masturbating Krauss.

“WHAT THE FUCK!!!” cried Krauss when the nearly frozen water made contact with his naked body. His hands moved from his crotch as he tried to find a position that would keep him somewhat warm.

Michelle stepped over to the useless human being, grabbed his left wrist, and ripped him off of the ledge that was his bed. When he settled onto the floor, she reached down, and grabbed a handful of his hair. She pulled his head up from the floor and spat, “What is your fuckin’ problem, asshole?”

It took but a moment for Michael Krauss to realize that the individual that saved him from a certain death was now standing over him holding his head up by his hair. The shock of the freezing cold water was finally wearing off. He moved his hands to his crotch; but, when he felt the hair on his head being twisted, he moved them to chest. He looked at Michelle for the first time since she had him removed from the Wagner penthouse and said, “I control my stress by masturbation. I am not opposed to jerking off multiple times an hour.”

Callahan chimed in, “From the moment we took his clothing until you opened the door, that sick bastard has done nothing but choke his chicken.”

A smile crossed Michelle’s lips in response to Callahan’s statement of very apparent fact. She pointed to the second five gallon bucket and mouthed, “Douse him.”

The water his Krauss’ body before he could react. For the second time in minutes, his body began to shiver in response to the cold water. He was lucky that he wasn’t being waterboarded. Every muscle in his body contracted except for his meager male appendage. That shrunk to the point where it seemed it did not exist. It took a few minutes for Krauss to regain a semblance of control and when he did he begged, “Please!!! No more!!! What do you want from me?”

He felt his head leave the stone floor and the voice of the woman that killed everyone in the Wagner family, except for Gunther, spit, “Can you stop jerking off for just a few hours?”

Against the hold of his tormentor, Krauss said, “Not unless I am given something to control my stress.”

“No drugs for you, Krauss.”

Where it came from both Michelle and Callahan did not know. Krauss yelled at the top of his lungs, “FUCK YOU!!! I WILL JERK OFF AS MANY TIMES AS I LIKE AND YOU CANNOT STOP ME!!!”

Michelle picked up the elfish faggot and tossed him against the wall above the shelf that formed his bed. Before he could move, she grabbed the thumb on his right hand and snapped it back breaking the trapezoid, trapezium and scaphoid bones cleanly. His thumb hung uselessly from his right hand. The pain was more than excruciating for the weak-willed man. His left hand went through the same procedure. The pain inflicted by Michelle was more than enough to cause Krauss to lose consciousness.

Michelle gave him three minutes before she successfully brought him back to reality. She held his chin in her right hand and said, “I have permanently taken your thumbs from you. There is no way on the face of this earth you are going to be able to wrap a thumb and index finger around your meager useless male member. You had a chance and you lost it.”

“Callahan, get a doc down here,” ordered Michelle. “Instruct him surgically remove his thumbs. Then meet me in Gunter’s new home.”

\-------------------------

Gunter Wagner was brought out of his semi-comatose state by Michelle. Callahan returned from setting up Krauss’ amputation and insisted that he be present when the German regained consciousness. It took seventeen minutes for Gunther to become fully aware of his surroundings. When he saw Michelle standing in his room, he jumped form the bed in an attempt to assault her. Failure was his only option as Michelle, to the surprise of Callahan, placed a perfect kick between his legs causing the idiot to scream and fall to the floor holding his genitals.

Michelle stepped over to the prostrate German, placed the instep of her boot over his Adams Apple, and said, “I suggest you give up trying to enforce your useless German superiority. I am not going to tolerate your bullshit. I am going to take my foot off of your neck and you are going to stand. Attempt to assault me a second time and I will snap your neck like a thin pretzel. Understood?”

Gunther Wagner nodded. Michelle removed her boot from his neck. He stood up while continuing to hold his genitals as the pain began to subside. His face did not hide his anger at being held in a room that could only be consider a cell. There was a stainless steel toilet and sink. The bed was nothing more than a mattress laid on a six by three foot built in shelf. There was no window in the room. After watching the woman standing opposite him murder his family, he came to the realization that he would be better off not confronting her physically.

“First, I just removed both thumbs from Michael Krauss’ hands. From the moment he was placed nude in his new one room home, he did nothing but masturbate. He will never be able to masturbate again. Second, I have someone I want you to meet,” said Michelle. “I can bring the individual here or I can take you to where he is housed. Would you like to take a short walk?”

“Faggot got what he deserved. And, I’d rather not take a short walk,” retorted Gunther. “I’d rather be released from this hellhole.”

“Not going to happen Gunther. You’re mine and I intend to use you or put you in hell with your mother, father, and your siblings.”

“Fuck you, bitch!!!”

Michelle turned to Callahan and said, “Enhanced interrogation option one.”

“Yes ma’am,” replied Callahan.

As Michelle exited the room, she heard Gunter Wagner try to stop Alpha One from removing all of his clothing. For the foreseeable future Gunter Wagner would wear only his birthday suit.

\-------------------------

Seven doors away was the quasi-hospital room where Stephen Stewart Simmons was being held. Michelle unlocked the door and stepped inside. Simmons did not move off of the bed when she entered. He sneered at her and turned his face to the wall.

“Impetuous little baby,” said Michelle. To add insult to injury, Michelle said, “Did mommy take something from her baby? Does he have nothing to play with?”

Stewart rolled off of the bed forgetting about the catheter that was still inserted into the end of his new hole to pee through. Once his feet hit the floor, pain shot from between his legs to his brain. Not being one to tolerate pain very well, Stephen fell to his knees and cried out. Whatever he has attempting failed miserably which caused Michelle to chuckle out loud.

“Stand,” she commanded.

Without a word Stephen stood.

“Take off your hospital gown. From this moment forward, you will not wear any clothing. You will be naked for the rest of your lousy fuckin’ life.”

Stephen’s face became troubled; but, he did as he was told.

“I am going to remove the surgical dressing. Then you are going to allow me to place the leather collar around your neck. Once that is in place, I will attach the leash and you will follow me without as much as a whimper.”

Stephen allowed Michelle to remove the dressing, wrap the leather collar around his neck, and attach the long leather leash to the ring under his chin. He knew he would have to carry the urine bag to wherever she was taking him.

Michelle did not look at him when she said, “Good boy. You’re learning your place.”

\-------------------------

Michelle stopped before entering Gunther’s room. She placed Simmons just outside the door in a position where Gunther would not be able to see him when she entered. She put the index finger of her left hand to her lips signaling Simmons to remain quiet. The length of the lease gave her enough room to step forward and stand in the doorway to Gunther’s room.

Alpha One stood next to the wall opposite the cinder block bed. Gunther Wagner stood naked with his hands at his side. Apparently, Alpha One did not have to use physical force to make Wagner stand naked in the middle of his room. He did not flinch or try to cover his genitals when Michelle came into view.

“I can see why you are a pedophile Gunther,” said Michelle. “Seems you have a rather minuscule manhood. Is that why your dead wife liked to fuck well-hung black men?” Her words were having the desired effect. His muscles started to twitch and his mouth turned into a sneer. His inbred German superiority was welling up into his conscious mind.

“I’m glad that bitch is dead,” spat Gunther. “She did not deserve what I gave her.”

“Gave her what?” spat Michelle. “Does that thing get bigger than four inches hard?”

Callahan could not contain himself. He cracked up laughing at the interaction between the two of them.

Gunther snapped to quasi-attention and announced with a superior air, “I am a man’s man. My equipment is looked upon as one of the best tools for. . .”

Michelle interrupted, “For abusing children.”

Before Gunther could continue his superior oration, Michelle pulled Simmons into the room. Gunther Wagner snapped his mouth shut, involuntarily cupped his genitals, and pissed through his hands onto the floor. It took about two minutes before Gunter could stutter, “W-w-what d-d-did y-y-you do to h-h-him?”

Michelle smiled at Callahan and nodded her head towards the door. He understood and knew that she would not need his assistance anymore. He departed the room; but, did not depart the hallway.

“Gunther, I believe you know Stephen Stewart Simmons. Say hello to him,” commanded Michelle.

“What the fuck!!!” cried Gunther. “You fuckin’ removed his genitals!!! What kind of sick bitch are you???”

“I am a very nice sick bitch, Gunther. You see, this fuckin’ asshole tried to get me to allow him to fuck me as consent for him to sexually abuse my children. You know, the children your dumb-as-a-rock mother kidnapped in an attempt to get me to stand down.”

Michelle pulled Simmons further into the room and said, “Simmons, tell Gunther where your cock and balls are.”

Stephen tried to look down; but, the leather collar around his neck would not allow him move his head so he could look down at the floor. Instead, he closed his eyes and said, “My cock is in a glass apothecary jar preserved in formaldehyde. My testicles were surgically placed inside my body. When the catheter is removed, I will have to sit to like a woman urinate. The only way to relieve my horniness is to be penetrated anally so my prostate can be massaged.” When he opened his eyes he saw the look of shock on Gunther’s face.

“So, Gunther Wagner,” said Michelle, “shall I have the surgeon do the same to you? Or, are you going to save your useless little penis by giving me all of the information that is stored inside your brain. What I need most is your methodology to contact Richard Nathan Weinstein.”

The puddle between Gunter’s legs began to grow as he pissed where he stood a second time. He did not respond verbally to Michelle. Pissing himself was the only way he had to alleviate his fear of losing his genitals and being murdered by the likes of Richard Nathan Weinstein.

Michelle turned to Simmonds and said, “See, he’s nothing more than a scared little boy. Just like another tough guy who learned the hard way about becoming a traitor. So, to prove your worth to me and to show Gunther that you have accepted your indentured servitude, kneel and lick up his mess.”

Stephen fell a small tug on the collar and knew he had no choice but to kneel, bend over, and lick up Gunther’s urine. His face turned green as he lowered himself to his knees. He tried; but, failed at his attempt to stop from having to humiliate himself in front of the eldest son of the couple that brought him into the world of organized pedophilia. Stephen paused for a split second before his tongue came out of his mouth and like a dog he licked up most but not all of Gunther Wagner’s urine.

“See, Gunter,” said Michelle. “See what happens to a man who loses his cock to a superior woman.”

“Fuck you bitch,” spat Gunther. “I am not going to let you do that to me and I am not going to give you what you asked for.”

Michelle pulled Simmons to his feet and unceremoniously pushed him into a corner. She turned back to Gunther and said, “When is the last time you had a cock up your superior German ass?”

“I have never been penetrated anally,” he spat back.

“Even when you were but a boy and daddy fucked you to teach you what a child feels like when an adult cock penetrated his anus?”

“My father penetrated me because he loved me. Not because I was some useless little boy who needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Interesting. I learned today that the traitor among my men was abused physically more than he was abused sexually. I see that in you Gunther. I bet Walter got off beating the shit out of you more than he love pressing his cock up your ass. I am going to give you the opportunity to keep your genitals intact and by doing so, you will not visit your family in hell.”

“I’ll give you what you want under one condition,” said Gunther. “Let me have an hour with your son. When I’m done with him, I’ll tell you everything.”

‘You know, that is what the emasculated Simmons said to me as he presented his cock to me. Now, let me see, oh yes, his cock is in a jar. He cannot fuck anyone ever again. I will not do that to you Gunther. What I will do to you is very simple. I will take you out into the hallway, strap you to a _‘fuck me’_ bench, and allow multiple niggers to fuck you up your superior German ass.”

Out of the blue, Stephen said to Gunther, “Do not fuck with her Gunther. I did and see what she did to me. Give her what she wants. Save yourself and at least live a somewhat normal life as her indentured servant.”

Where he got the strength from, Michelle would never understand. Gunther spat, “I bow to no one.”

Michelle had enough of one Gunther Wagner. She kicked him in his balls. When he bent over in pain, she wrapped her left arm around his neck and with her right arm and hand wrapped behind his head, she snapped his neck killing him instantly. She lost control of her built up anger at Gunther. She pulled Simmons to the stainless steel commode and banged his mouth against the edge of the bowl breaking all of his teeth. When she released her hold on his head he was unconscious.

She exited the room to find Alpha One standing calmly in the hallway. She approached him and simply said, “Wagner is no longer a problem. He decided to meet his parents and siblings in hell. Simmons needs an oral surgeon to finish removing what is left of his teeth. I am headed to my office to get some real work done.”


	11. Sunday Night / Monday Morning, May 26-27, 2019 – ‘Warehouse’, Yonkers, NY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussions concerning the cabal and the beginning of a one day affair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Night / Monday Morning, May 26-27, 2019 – ‘ _Warehouse’_ , Yonkers, NY

The blueprints for RNW’s superyacht had not arrived by 5:00PM Daylight Savings Time. Michelle made an urgent phone call to Bremen, Germany. She woke the owner of one of the world’s largest shipbuilding company that specialized in customized superyachts. Herr Morgan was initially angry at being awoken by a phone call at midnight his time. When he heard Michelle’s voice, he immediately asked for a moment so he could compose himself and go to his in home office. Michelle politely told him it would be alright for him to return her call within fifteen minutes.

The computer screen blinked giving Michelle the incoming phone number and name of the caller.

“Michelle,” was all she said to the caller.

“Ms. Cooper,” said Herr Morgan in English with a heavy German accent, “it is midnight here. Please explain to me why you are calling me in the middle of the night?”

“Herr Morgan, I requested the blueprints for a custom yacht you built for Richard Nathan Weinstein. I was told I would have them by 3:00PM this afternoon. It is 5:00PM and there is nothing in my inbox.”

“Ms. Cooper, if I give you the engineering blueprints for a customer’s private build, I can lose everything my family has built over the years to become the premier constructor of superyachts. I am hard pressed to break a customer’s privacy and confidence in my company,” replied Herr Morgan.

“There are no customer/shipbuilder confidentiality laws in either of our legal systems. If my husband was alive and making this call, would you be responding to him as you are responding to me?” asked Michelle.

Herr Morgan knew she was right. He also knew what she could do to his company and family. He also knew if her husband was alive, he’d already be on the way to becoming a pauper.

“Please hold on a moment,” said Herr Morgan.

Six minutes passed before he returned to the call.

“You inbox should ping in three minutes with the information you requested,” said Herr Morgan. “I set up the delivery myself. I am advising you that the attachment to the email is quite large.”

“Thank you Herr Morgan,” said Michelle. “As always, the Cooper and Morgan families shall always be tied together at the hip.”

Michelle ended the call.

Four, not three minutes later, her encrypted email server received ten thousand blueprint pages for the custom build of RNW’s superyacht. She saved the document to a directory on the supercomputer that would give her unfettered access to the information. The security was bound so tight around everything she did electronically, it would take millenniums to break the encryption even with the largest known supercomputers working in tandem.

She began the process of learning all she could about the 665 foot vessel at precisely 5:24PM. By 6:36PM, she was starting to see that Richard Nathan Weinstein had built a one-of-a-kind superyacht that could hide in plain sight. The first gotcha Michelle encountered was the fact the Richard Nathan Weinstein owned the world’s only privately owned nuclear powered superyacht. The nuclear power plant was and exact copy with small modifications to the design of the nuclear power plants the United States Navy used in their nuclear submarines. The second gotcha was the superyacht’s hull and desk design coupled with the use of specialized paint. RNW’s personal yacht was built with multiple stealth capabilities. The only reason the superyacht had to approach a port was to take on food supplies and those were picked up by a thirty-eight foot ocean going cabin cruiser attached to the rear of the vessel. Otherwise, it was a self-contained floating city.

Michelle picked up her iPhone and called Callahan. Two minutes later came a knock and he entered her office.

“We have a major problem with Weinstein’s superyacht,” she stated as he slid into the center seat in front of her desk.

“It’s a fuckin’ boat, Michelle,” said Callahan. “How bad can it be?”

Michelle ran her fingers through her hair before she answered, “Real fuckin’ bad. First, the damn thing is nuclear powered.” She saw the look on his face, held up her hand, and said, “It is designed to be impervious to radar and sonar. A stealth fuckin’ superyacht.”

Hearing what his employer said immediately opened up avenues of questioning he had not even considered or thought about. “Stealth,” he said, “then, what kind of armament is he carrying?” He paused, stared hard at Michelle, and asked, “How can we be sure his crew is not made up of guys like us? Mercenaries are a dime-a-dozen today.”

“That is but the tip of the iceberg,” said Michelle. “I have the distinct feeling that his floating home is the center of his own personal arena to indulge in his sexual deviance. It also allows him to host private floating rape-a-kid parties.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The hull from just before mid-ship to the bow is made up of small cell like areas. There is a private elevator from there to an annex stateroom off of his private stateroom on a private deck just below the bridge deck. If what I am seeing, he can descend below the main deck, take the child of his choice, and without as much as a squeak, bring them up to the annex.”

“Did you have time to count the number of small cabins below deck?”

“Fuck if their cabins,” groused Michelle. “From the design and build, they’re nothing more than five foot by three foot cells. He has room for twenty-four captives.” Michelle paused, looked down at her desk, and screamed, “TWENTY-FOUR!!!”

Callahan knew better than to respond to her outburst. He counted to fifteen before he said, “We have a lot more work than we thought. Nuclear powerplants require federal authority and nuclear engineers.”

“I do not think this little play toy is legal.” Responded Michelle. “I have something a bit more important to talk to you about.”

“And, what is that?”

“I want you to come out of the field. It is not a request. It is an order. I need you to take control of all aspects of our missions as a rear echelon fleet admiral. I am trusting you to make decisions that will need to be made on the spur-of-the-moment. For all intent and purpose, you are my five star.”

Callahan leaned forward and said, “You know I am not a desk jockey. You’re cutting my legs out from under me. You’re putting me out to pasture, Michelle.”

Michelle stood, walked around her desk, and sat in the chair to Callahan’s right. Their eyes met and she said, “You’re just like my husband. You’re smart beyond genius. When it comes to spycraft and military operations, there is no one better than you. You’re a quick learner and you have an uncanny ability to separate the wheat from the chaff when it comes to designing operations. I need you here. I need to know that I and the teams have the best at their six.”

“There are things you and your husband have accomplished that run circles around my abilities. I cannot handle electronics the way you do. I cannot write a line of code. I do not have the cognitive abilities you do to separate the reams of data to hone in on the one point that will solve a problem. I cannot negotiate with people the way you do. I am not a politician. I’m an operator. I find and kill bad guys. I rescue the good guys.”

“And, now you’re my eyes and ears. There are things you are going to learn that there is only one other individual I would trust with the knowledge. You have the men. They will follow you anywhere. They trust you and sometimes I believe they trust you more than me. Now, you have to offer a name to me to replace you. We will make the decision together; but, I do reserve the right to refuse your choice. I need someone to take your place in the field and to take your place as the leader of Alpha Team. I need you Callahan here by my side.”

“You know you will be down two operators. Would you consider allowing me to take the desk-jockey job after we take down Weinstein?”

“If it was that simple, I would; but, we are going to have to review all options for the best way to takedown Weinstein. Do not forget, we may have to perform for the government. We are going to have to send teams to all of his properties. We are going to have to do surveillance for several weeks to learn the operations and movement of his people. Then we are going to have to meet, evaluate our data, and make a decision or decisions about how to facilitate the takedown of Weinstein. I am going to ask you to accept my promotion. Please do not make me order you to do it; because, I know you’d rather leave than become what you hate – a desk jockey.”

“Do I have to give you an answer right now?”

“Yes. I have to know you are on-board one hundred percent. Then I can be secure in my knowledge of you having my six and that I have not made a mistake opening up certain areas of the clandestine intelligence business to you.”

Callahan thought for several minutes about his life behind a desk. His parents were deceased. His brother and sister have not spoken to him in years. It was so bad between them, he never received a birthday card or a Christmas card. His life was the SEALS. He never married. His tie to Michelle was through her husband. That man could move heaven and earth with a simple nod of his head. Politicians prostrated themselves in front of him just to get an audience. Callahan came to understand just how smart he was when he learned how he broke the cyber encryption key used by the Chinese Military Cyber Unit to steal military secrets. Michelle’s husband broke the 10,240 byte key as a teenager using an outdated laptop computer. What added to his amazement was Michelle’s intelligence and her innate ability to bore into a subject and pull out the exact answer that she was seeking.

Callahan pursed his lips, nodded to himself in response to his making a decision, and said, “I am not a smart as you are Michelle. I do not hold a candle to your innate intellectual abilities. I am an operator; but, I do bring an ability to design, train, implement, and monitor operations. I understand why you asked me to hang up my web belt.” Callahan stood, put out his right hand, and said, “I accept your promotion.”

Michelle stood, took his hand, gave it a squeeze, and said with humility and honesty, “Thank you very much.”

“You are quite welcome, Michelle,” said Callahan. “I hope I live up to your expectations.”

“My husband saw something in you and ultimately, so did I. That is why he hired you to be the leader of our unauthorized black-ops intelligence and operations team. We have done some dirty things in the name of our country. We have kept America safe and strong when there are politicians that would rather see us fail. What I am after now has nothing to do with America. It has to do with my childhood and the future of all children worldwide. I lived the life of an abusee at the hands of my father with the forced consent of my mother. I will do everything in my power to bring the worst serial abusers to justice. My justice.”

“I understand. I will do everything in my power to help you expose and bring to whatever form of justice you decide is applicable to the individual or individuals we expose. But, I need to reaffirm that I will give my life to protect Constance, Charles, and you. I made the same oath to your husband. I stand by it as I stand here with you.”

Michelle smiled, pointed to the chair and said, “Please sit.” She then returned to her executive chair behind her desk. “There are ten thousand or so pages of blueprints for RNW’s superyacht. I think we should brainstorm about what detailed engineering data we need to pull off the overtaking of his personal floating den of inequity.”

Callahan pulled his chair close to Michelle’s desk, laid his hands on the top, and said, “We know he uses nuclear propulsion. That means the actual reactor is secured in a lead lined capsule just behind mid-ship to keep the vessel balanced. He probably does not have any extra uranium rods stored aboard the yacht. One of his employees has to be a nuclear engineer. I would guess that person did the same job on one of the Navy’s attack or ballistic submarines. A smart owner would have a two nuclear engineers to give each of them time off. He built his superyacht to hide in plain sight. You may be able to see the yacht on the horizon, but it will have absolutely no radar image. We will have to find her from the air; but, I do not know of a drone or drones that can stay in the air for days or weeks at a time. Once we find her, we are going to have to attach a long-lived beacon so we can follow her. As I asked earlier, what kind of armaments does she have? I would hope that the blueprints will give us that information. Lastly, how many individuals man the yacht? And, of those individuals, how many are there for security?”

Michelle nervously rapped the fingers of her right hand on the conference table top. Her eyes roamed around her office as she pondered how she was going to uncover all the team needed to make an assault on a nuclear powered superyacht. What bothered her was how RNW got the detailed blueprints of a working United States Navy nuclear powerplant. A call to Bremen could get her the answer; but, asking Herr Morgan would not be a wise move. She could fly to Germany and talk to Herr Morgan face-to-face; but, that would not be a constructive meeting. It would take a program with specialized keywords to find and note where the data was encrypted on the blueprints. Or, where the original blueprints from the United States Navy were stored within Weinstein’s network.

“Callahan, I need keywords. I am going to have to search through one thousand pages of blueprints to find what we are looking for,” said Michelle. “I’ll start. Electrical, nuclear, security, armament, and. . . .”

“Radiation mitigation, cooling, crew quarters, cabins, computer wiring, and Wi-Fi,” said Callahan.

“Shit,” said Michelle. “There really isn’t a simple list of keywords that will winnow down the information contained in the fuckin’ blueprints. I am getting the ungodly feeling that to find what we want is going to be a manual operation. Page after page of dense mechanical and electrical blueprints all written in German. Fuck!!!”

“Why don’t you just start with one keyword phrase?” asked Callahan. “Say search for _‘nuclear containment vessel’_.”

Michelle woke up from her intellectual stupor, smiled, and said, “I knew you were fuckin’ smarter than you make out to be. Start simple. The KISS method. Build from there and end up with the data that we need. You’re a fuckin’ genius Callahan!!!”

Smiling, Callahan said, “I’m so far from a genius that I’m fuckin’ stupid. If you have what you need, I’d like to retire to my office and begin to put together a list of potential team leaders.”

Callahan did not wait for a response. He stood, saluted Michelle, and quietly departed her office. His life at the age of 53 has taken a turn he never would have expected to happen. What he needed more than anything was an ability to keep from making a fool of himself by expressing his unrequited love for Michelle Cooper. The untimely death of her husband opened a door that he had kept securely shut. Now, working closer than ever before with her could oil the gears of a desire he had kept under wraps from the first day he had met her.

Michelle watched Callahan depart her office. When her door shut and locked she felt a tinge of desire for the man. The feelings she just experienced was not something she was looking for nor did she want to act upon. Their relationship had to be one hundred percent professional and businesslike.

Returning to the blueprints did not allow Michelle to open her mind to creating what should be a mindless search program. Although she had a 10000Gbps trunk speed connection to her supercomputer, she did not feel comfortable running the program from the warehouse. She knew it was imbecilic to think that any outside agency could break into her private network. Five minutes after sitting totally quiet, she opened up one of her Pythion programming directories on the supercomputer and began to create the program to search and codify the data she was seeking.

At 3:30AM, Michelle logged off from the supercomputer. She then logged off the warehouse server, logged off her desktop, and shut everything down. Her private suite was at the opposite end of the building. She motivated herself to get there and get into bed by thinking how sweet it would be to slide into bed next to Bridgette. Once she was under the covers, her right hand slipped between her legs, and she masturbated herself to three orgasms before falling sound asleep.

\-------------------------

Michelle woke at 5:30AM after only two hours of deep sleep. She rose, showered, dressed, and made her way down to the second floor kitchen to have something for breakfast. To her shock and amazement, all of her employees were seated and eating their morning meal. Then it hit her like a bolt of lightning. All of the men rose at the same time and performed the morning calisthenics and ran from Pierpointe Street down McDade Avenue to Van Cortlandt Park. The out bound and return length of the run was 4.4 miles. Knowing Callahan, the men had to run several laps around Van Cortlandt Park and the golf course to make the total run for the morning just under 12 miles. It also reminded her that she was not maintaining her own physical training.

Breakfast consisted of a bowl of hot oatmeal cooked in milk and maple syrup, two hard boiled eggs, and a twelve cup carafe of her dark roast with two shots of espresso coffee. Michelle did not eat at a table just for her. She turned and eyed the room for an open spot. She saw something out of the corner of her eye and made an immediate decision. She walked over to the table where Bravo Team sat. The men stood upon her arrival and waited for her to sit before resuming their breakfast.

Michelle sat and said, “At ease gentlemen.”

Together the men responded, “Thank you ma’am.”

To add insult to injury, Michelle added two teaspoons of granulated sugar to her bowl of oatmeal. She poured a mug of coffee and downed it in four nonstop gulps. Feeling the beginnings of a caffeine jolt, Michelle sat for a moment to savor her morning buzz. She picked up one of her hard boiled eggs, covered it in black pepper, and popped it whole into her mouth.

“Excuse me ma’am,” said Bravo Six, “but, did you at least chew the egg before you swallowed it?”

Michelle smiled, poured another mug, took a gulp, and responded, “Have you ever watched the movie _‘Cool Hand Luke’_ with Paul Newman?

Bravo Four chimed in, “Is that the picture where he ate fifty hard boiled eggs on a bet?”

“Absolutely,” answered Michelle. “If I had to, I would have bet that I could have eaten sixty hard boiled eggs. And, to respond to Bravo Six; I did chew the egg; albeit, not as much as I should have. Is that acceptable to you guys?”

They all smiled, chuckled, and nodded their heads in the affirmative.

Michelle’s phone pinged. She picked it up, turned it over, and read a notification banner that she had received an email. She replaced the phone on the tabletop and returned to eating her breakfast. The email was important; but, not important enough to end her casual interaction with the men of Bravo Team. Twenty-two minutes after arriving at the table, Michelle finished eating, stood, and departed without saying a word. The men knew and accepted all of her peccadillos when I came to social interaction. To a man, they knew she would do anything and everything to protect them and their families. And, to a man, they would all fuck her in a heartbeat.

\-------------------------

First stop was the section of the basement where Stewart Simmons and Michael Krauss were housed.

She entered Michael’s room first. He was awake and secured to the hospital bed. His hands were wrapped in bandages.

“Good morning, Michael,” said Michelle.

Groggy from the pain meds he was given intravenously, Michael was aware of who entered his room and responded, “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“I did what I had to, Michael,” responded Michelle.

“You fuckin’ removed my thumbs!!!” cried Michael.

“I did,” was her simple answer.

“What am I going to do?”

“About what?”

“I can’t fuckin’ hold anything. YOU FUCKIN’ TOOK MY THUMBS!!!” he screamed.

Michelle bent over his face as her left hand went underneath the blanket. She grabbed Michael’s genitals, gently squeezed, and spat, “I have taken from you what I took from Stewart Simmons. He has no cock and balls. You, a habitual masturbator, has no way to pleasure yourself. You’ll learn to survive a life without ever having the ability to jerk off.”

“I masturbate to control my anxiety and stress,” moaned Michael.

“Now, you’ll have to find someone or something to butt fuck you. At least you’ll have a methodology to make yourself ejaculate. If it becomes difficult, I can always remove your genitals.”

“What do you want from me?” moaned Michael.

“I want you to give me what Gunther cannot. I need to know how the Wagner family made contact with Richard Nathan Weinstein. Once you give me that information, I will have a specialist build a prosthetic for each hand. You will not be able to masturbate; but, you will have the ability to feed yourself, hold your penis to urinate, and wipe your ass after you take a shit.”

“W-W-Where is Gunther?”

“Gunther is dead.”

“Dead? You fuckin’ killed him?”

Michelle nodded her head and replied, “I did. He was given a choice. He chose to die.”

“You know I cannot help you,” said Michael. “I was not thought of very highly by the Wagner family. I represented the lowest of low to them. When you murdered Gunther, you took the last person within the Wagner family who knew how to contact Richard Weinstein.”

“That cannot be the end of this little affair, Michael. You have to know someone else who knows the proper methodology to make contact with Weinstein. You give me that and I promise you that I will provide you with multiple cocks to suck and penetrate your faggot ass. In fact, I will go one better, I will house you in a thousand a dollar an hour whore house and you can eat fresh hot creampies to your heart’s content.”

“I’m sorry,” whined Michael, “but, I am incapable of helping you. I have absolutely no knowledge concerning a methodology to make contact with Richard. I only know of the times he made contact with Gunther first. If he does not contact you first, then I know of no way to contact him.”

Michelle pursed her kips, nodded, and said, “I believe you Michael. Once you are healed, I will give you a choice. The high end brothel or a slow painless death.”

Michelle removed her hand from around his meager genitals, turned and exited his hospital room.

Her next stop was Stewart Simmons room; but, her iPhone pinged notifying her she had an email. She opened her custom written encrypted email application. The first email in her INBOX was from an unexpected individual. She opened it and read it two times to be sure she understood what was being conveyed and asked of her. Based upon the content of the email, she knew she had a few hours before she had to respond.

Once the email issue was partially resolved, Michelle entered Simmons room. He was lying on his side holding the surgery bandages. He was not crying nor was he faking the act of masturbation. Michelle simply said, “Good morning.”

Stewart Simmons stiffened for a moment before he replied, “Good morning.”

“The first order of business deals with the catheter that is in your new piss hole. If I deem that your new bladder exit is healed, I can and will remove the catheter. It will give you the ability to walk around on your own. Second, I need to ask you about a client. So, I need you to roll onto your stomach so I may inspect the surgery.”

Stewart Simmons did not argue with his tormentor. He rolled onto his stomach and spread his legs. He heard Michelle put on a pair of latex gloves and prepare some cotton swabs with alcohol. He flinched when he felt Michelle’s hand touch the catheter and tubing. Then he felt the cool wetness of the alcohol.

“Good news, Simmons,” said Michelle, “the new urinary opening has healed extremely fast. The orifice has a nice color and shape to it. If you want to have the catheter removed early, I will.”

“Please,” said Simmons.

“Ok. This is going to feel strange. In fact, I suggest you stand in front of the toilet and be prepared to quickly sit as you may have to empty your bladder. This will be a great sign that you will have the ability to vacate your bladder.”

Simmons rose from the hospital bed and positioned himself so Michelle could remove the catheter while giving him the opportunity to sit if he needed to.

Michelle said, “Spread your cheeks.”

Simmons groaned knowing that in the future when someone ordered him to spread his cheeks it would mean a cock or dildo was going to be inserted into his anus. Knowing he would be violated without cause, Simmons put his hands on his buttocks and pulled them open.

“Good nullo,” said Michelle. She inspected the catheter and without any warning, per the doctor’s instructions, pulled the medical device from Simmons new piss hole.

When Simmons felt the catheter exit his body, he jumped, and immediately moved back and sat on the toilet. The sound of urine was music to Michelle’s ears. Simmons sat for a minute before he stood. It was then, Michelle slapped him on the ass.

“Listen stupid,” said Michelle, “you sit to pee. You need to wipe or you are going to regret the results.”

“Fuck,” whined Simmons. He found the roll of toilet paper, tore off several pieces, and gently patted dry his piss hole.

“Good nullo,” said Michelle.

Simmons frowned and questioned, “Nullo?”

“Technically you’re not a complete nullo,” responded Michelle. “Your balls are still part of your body; except, they’re inside and not hanging between your legs. You are smooth between your legs. I just like humiliating you by calling you one. When you’re ready, stand, and if you’re in the mood, we can take a walk. Or, we can talk here.

Simmons stood, looked around the small hospital room, and said, “If we take a walk, what will I wear?”

Michelle gave Simmons an evil smile and said, “Your birthday suit.”

Stewart’s eyes flew open upon hearing that he would have to remain naked. It took a moment for him to regain his composure before he said, “If you are going to use me to help you with your never ending battle with the pedophiles of the world, are you expecting me to always be naked? Even in public?”

“Walking around here naked poses no issues to your health and wellbeing. The men here are not interested in penetrating you with their cocks. A hand grenade or the sixteen inch barrel of a shotgun would be acceptable; but, engaging in sex with you is abhorrent to them. As for other public places, wearing clothing will depend upon you.”

Simmons moved to lean against the hospital bed and said, “Let’s just talk here.”

Michelle removed the latex gloves and tossed them in a red medical waste basket. He leaned against the counter, pulled out her iPhone, and reread the email message. She did it to waste time. Her photographic memory had already stored in her long-term memory banks. She replaced her iPhone in her side pocket before she spoke.

“Who is Waleed Uday Farooqui?” asked Michelle

Simmons entire demeanor changed in a split second. He became tense throughout his entire physical body. His face did not hide his fear. His hands went to his empty crotch to protect his genitals even though they were no longer there. He did not respond to Michelle’s question. He sat stone faced and completely scared from just hearing the name.

“Ok Simmons,” said Michelle, “apparently this individual holds something over your head. I can see how afraid of him you are. But, I need you to get your head out of your ass and tell me who the fuck he is. Do not make me go up to my office only to come back down here when I know who he is.”

Steward took a deep breath, exhaled, and said, “I am surprised you do not know who he is. Waleed Uday Farooqui the son of the Ameer of the Arabic Confederation of States. He is the head of their security services both foreign and domestic. His security forces supersede all other police, military, and intelligence authorities. He answers only to his father, the Ameer.”

‘Interesting. Then why is he coming to Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency late this afternoon?”

“How do you know that?”

“Angelina emailed me very early this morning. The tone of her email made it apparent she is scared shitless.”

“Fuck,” said Simmons somewhat under his breath. He looked directly into Michelle’s eyes and said, “If you think the Wagner family was sick in the head, Waleed Uday Farooqui makes them look like angels.”

“How come I have not heard of him?”

“You probably have; but, under a different name. In the West, he is simply known as _“The Butcher”_.

Once she heard his nickname, she knew who and what he is to his people. “What the fuck does that asshole want with you? It is not like he cannot acquire children for his deviant pleasures.”

“In the Arab world, there are a dearth of blonde haired blue eyes boys and girls, as well as, redheaded porcelain skinned freckled boys and girls. Dark skinned children are a dime a dozen for him to abuse. I supplied what he could not get in his own country.”

“I will assume you banked some of his money to make the trafficking easier,” said Michelle. “Angelina did not give me specifics; but, it read as if this was not an ordinary meeting.”

“He had been to the offices only once. After that, I met him at the organizations gatherings that were open only to the wealthiest members.”

“I have to ask,” said Michelle. “How in the fuck did you get invited?”

“You have to remember, I was the procurer of children. For that reason, I was always invited.”

Michelle walked around the small hospital room a few times before she stopped inches from Simmons face and asked, “Who does he travel with? Why is he making this unannounced visit? Give me everything.”

“He travels with six bodyguards. They will be armed to the teeth. They trained with the Russian Spetsnaz forces. They are the elite soldiers of the Confederation. I will guess that he has found out he has lost several billions of dollars that was under my safekeeping.”

“What are my chances of getting him to accept that I am now in control?”

“Slim to none. He’s not into Jewish women. He murders Jewish children for the fun of eating them.” He paused, held his hands up, and said, “I have seen videos. I am not a cannibal. That fuckin’ guy is one brain cell short of total insanity. I’ve heard stories of him getting pissed off at restaurant severs for the smallest nonsensical infraction, pulling out his weapon, and kneecapping them for shits and giggles. The guy is just fuckin’ nuts.”

“So, six bodyguards. Two stay with his vehicle. Two stay outside the entrance to where he is visiting. And, two follow him inside.”

“No. No one stays with the vehicle. Two stand outside the main entrance and four enter the establishment.”

Michelle nodded when she heard Simmons explanation of how he travels and the possible reason he was visiting Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency. She still felt there was something more to his relationship with Farooqui. “Last question and I want the whole truth. Give it to me and I will put it on the positive side of the ledger. What does he hold over your head?”

Stewart shivered and groaned when he heard Michelle’s question. “I secured two Western families for him. The most important part of the family had to be the wife and mother. She had to have just given birth or the baby had to be no older than three months. He forced the families to watch as he skinned by baby alive and ate them.” Simmons stopped, looked down at the floor, and said, “Do I need to continue?”

“No, Simmons. You don’t.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I am going to kill his bodyguards. Then I am going to capture him and transport him to a black site worse than anything the CIA ever devised. What does he control when it comes to the organization?”

“Just the Arab Confederation of States. He controls the organization like Weinstein and Lemaire do within their countries. Do not forget that he controls the confederation through dictatorial pain and anguish.”

“Do you want to meet with him today?” asked Michelle.

“NO!!!” was Simmons quick response. “He will fuckin’ kill me. I lost at a minimum three billion of his US dollars.”

“Understood,” said Michelle. “You’ve made some points Simmons; but, do not let it go to your head. I own you and I am not relinquishing my control over you.”

Michelle turned and exited Simmons hospital room and made a beeline to her office.

\-------------------------

First order of business for Michelle was getting everything she could in a short period of time on Waleed Uday Farooqui. The Python program took her all of seven minutes to write and submit. Second order of business was calling Callahan into her office. Third order of business was a phone call. She retrieved a secure satellite phone, flipped up the antenna, and dialed.

The phone on the other end rang twice before it was picked up by a secure computer system.

“Papa Zulu 89212958,” Michelle said knowing she was speaking into a secure computer system.

“Papa Zulu 89212958,” replied the secure system. “Color of the day?”

“Light Blue,” responded Michelle.

She heard a tone, then a squeal, and then silence for twenty-three seconds.

“Hello Michelle,” said the voice that took over the phone call. “What is so important you used the secure line?”

“Waleed Uday Farooqui is in New York City,” replied Michelle. “He is going to visit a business I now own. The prior owner was the banker for a worldwide cabal of pedophiles. It is my intention to remove his bodyguards and take him into custody. I am giving you first dibs on him. Otherwise, I have a black site that will hold him until I am done with him.”

“Would you share that site with us?” asked the voice.

“No,” replied Michelle. “I am willing to deliver him to you and you can do with him what you want. If I keep him, he will be emasculated and tortured for the rest of his life. Be sure, I will get him to talk. What I garner from him comes to you first.”

“Give me a minute,” said the voice. “I need to make another call.”

Michelle did not answer.

Ninety seconds later, the voice returned and said, “As much as we would like to suffer at our hands, we’ll leave it up to you. We want to keep a good distance from your unauthorized operation. We will supply you with whatever you need to break Farooqui. Good luck.”

“Thank you,“ said Michelle and promptly ended the call.

During the call, Callahan entered her office and took the center seat of the three in front of her conference room table desk. He waited patiently for her to finish.

Michelle closed the phone, returned it to the storage box behind her desk, and made sure the box was securely locked. She turned back to Callahan and said, “We have an issue that has to be dealt with today. This afternoon to be exact.”

“Were you on a secure international phone call?” asked Callahan.

“I was,” answered Michelle.

“Excuse me, ma’am; but, I’m not dope. You transmitted a code sign before the call was connected to a human. Which means, you were in contact with a foreign intelligence service.”

“This goes nowhere, Callahan. If it gets out, it can only have come from you. I am going to threaten you with death if it gets out.”

Callahan did not respond He sat controlling his anger. Not even her husband threatened him with death. His mind whirred with possibilities and rather than list them all, he said, “Israel.”

Michelle smiled in response to his guess, which was one-hundred percent correct.

“Mossad and Shin Bet are the only two foreign entities I work with when it comes to certain aspects of intelligence work. For now, what we have to accomplish this afternoon is more important than the Weinstein operation. I will sit with you at a later date to give you what you need to know about my relationship with Israel.”

“Understood. What is going on that it needs to be accomplished this afternoon.”

“Ever hear of Waleed Uday Farooqui?”

“Who hasn’t heard of _‘The Butcher’_ ,” said Callahan. “That is one sick motherfucker. Death is too good for him.”

“He is in the United States. He is going to the offices of one of the individuals that is presently housed in the basement. Seems when I took over the business and secured all of the money that belongs to the pedophile cabal, I acquired just short of three billion of Farooqui’s money. He wants it back.”

“What are you thinking?”

“That is my problem. The building on West End Avenue is scrunched between two larger apartment houses. The offices of Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency are only on the first floor. There is a large entry room. The receptionist sits in that room in front of the only private office. There is no way we can have people inside when he enters. Also, he travels with a security entourage if six men.”

Callahan sat quietly for a few minutes thinking before he suggested, “We cannot take them outside or inside the building. I am going to assume he is housed at the Arabic Confederation of States embassy or counselor offices. Seven individuals would travel in two vehicles. Most likely Chevrolet Suburbans or GMC Yukons. They’ll be bulletproof and armored. I suggest we take them before they arrive at the Triple S offices.”

“How?” asked Michelle.

Callahan closed his eyes, thought for a moment, and said, “We block the vehicles and used an e-bomb to render the vehicles useless. Use direct attached shaped charges to open the door of Farooqui’s vehicle. Pull him out, render him useless with a dose of ketamine, and take him with us to wherever. The men will be terminated with prejudice.”

“What about the second vehicle?”

“The individuals inside the vehicle will not be able to operate the electronic doors. We us a small punch to open the rear window and send them to their seventy-one virgins.”

Michelle sat up, slapped the desktop, and asked, “Would it be possible to render the vehicles useless, attach to cables to them, and pull them into a truck. I know we’ll need two trucks; but, if we’ve eliminated their electronics, we should be able to do with them what we please.”

“Would you be able to hack the computer on each vehicle without the driver knowing?” asked Callahan.

“Yes; but, why?”

“If you can hack the computer, you could put the transmissions into neutral before we set off the e-bomb. All electronics including their cell phones will be fired beyond use.”

“I’ll need the VINs to know what access I’ll need to hack to get into the vehicle’s computer system.”

“How much time do we have?”

“They’re due to arrive at Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency at five.”

Callahan looked at his iPhone and said, “We have eight hours. If we cannot get the VIN numbers, do you have the ability to find the sales transactions? They will have the VINs on the documents. And, they had to purchase the vehicles in the United States and send them to a specialist to convert them to armored vehicles.”

“I can do that,” said Michelle. “What about the. . .”

Callahan interrupted, “Leave the design to me. I will need carte blanche to purchase or rent vehicles and other assorted items.”

“Not an issue; but, the e-bomb?”

“A phone call to a dear friend. He’ll give me everything I’ll need to construct the e-bombs.”

“Trust. . .” said Michelle.

“With my life,” replied Callahan.

“How many teams?”

“Three. One to implement the road blockages to get Farooqui to be stopped with nowhere to go. One each to grab the vehicles.”

Michelle nodded. “I’ll leave the teams to you. Meet back here in two hours.”

Callahan did not respond. He stood and departed Michelle’s office.


	12. Monday – Late Afternoon, May 27, 2019 – Operational Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teams prepare and train for West End Avenue operation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen™ 2020. All Rights Reserved.
> 
> The complete copyright disclaimer may be found at the start of the first chapter.

It took Michelle forty-seven minutes to find the Vehicle Identification Numbers (VIN) for the vehicles. It took another ten minutes to get the source code for the factory computers installed in each vehicle from an internal General Motors Engineering Network. Then she hacked the security company that modified the vehicles to retrieve their blueprints, computer hardware specifications, operating system software, and application software. Michelle sighed a sigh of relief as she read through the company’s modifications. For a country with unlimited resources, the Arab Confederation of States went on the cheap upgrading and modifying the vehicles.

Just as Michelle was beginning to write the root kit and malware code, Callahan entered her office. He went to his favorite chair, sat, and said, “We have a problem.”

Michelle looked up from her keyboard, frowned, and asked, “Are you telling me there is something you cannot solve?”

‘Yes,” replied Callahan before he groaned in frustration. He did not wait for additional questions and went directly to the crux of the problem. “We have two unsolvable issues because of the location of the operation. New York City is not a place where one can simply blow shit up. First, there is no way to attach an electromagnetic bomb to each vehicle and have it work. It has to be a compact airborne detonation over each vehicle or a large one to obliterate both vehicles electrical systems. That being said, either option will fry all of the electricity in a four block area. Second, unless you have more than sway over the mayor and all the operational departments in the city, there is no way we can stage two eighteen wheelers on the streets around the offices of Triple S. Basically, that area of West End Avenue is more residential than commercial.” Callahan paused for a moment before continuing, “The only way we can takedown this bastard is to do it inside Triple S’s offices.”

Michelle pursed her lips, opened her eyes wide, licked her lips, and said, “Nothing ever goes the way we initially plan it. What is your alternative solution or solutions to capture this monster?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong. The drivers will stay with the vehicles. Two men will stand guard outside the main entrance to the building. His two most trusted bodyguards will follow him into the building. Am I good so far?”

“Yes.”

“We take control of the street and make it easy for Farooqui’s two vehicles to park directly in front of the building which we know is tucked between two larger residential apartment buildings. West End Avenue is a two way street. We force them to turn off of West 72nd Street onto West End Avenue. The building is on the Hudson River side of West End Avenue. We stage two large box trucks one facing south and the other facing north. The north facing truck will be stationed on the wrong side of the street. I’m thinking we label the trucks for Consolidated Edison or the Department of Sanitation. The drivers will pounce on the open space. Especially since the length of the parking spot will be long enough to fit both GMC Yukon XL vehicles. If we can, we will help them park.

“Then we have them. Eight men will take down the drivers and the outside bodyguards Inside the building we’ll station eight additional men. When Farooqui and his bodyguards enter the building, we’ll strike. If need be, we will eliminate his bodyguards and use multiple stun guns on Farooqui. Once he is down, we will immobilize him and secure him to a hospital gurney. Once the outside men are taken care of, we will open the back of the two trucks and drive the vehicles into them. Upon their leaving, a private ambulance will take the parking spot and we will roll Farooqui into the rear.”

“How are you going to pull this off without a single bullet being fired?” asked Michelle.

“My friend gave me a solution and I think it will work. We station the men outside as if they’re working in area and that is why Consolidated Edison vehicles are the preferred choice. We will make it impossible for the passengers to exit on the driver’s side; therefore, the passenger side doors will be the occupants only viable exit points. Once the men, except for the drivers, have exited, we wait for Farooqui to enter the building. Our men will use a fine cloud and spray of chloroform which will have an immediate effect on the two men outside.”

“What about the drivers?”

“I believe they will exit their vehicles to protect their comrades. They’ll be dosed before they know what hit them. Worst case scenario, a knife to the back of their necks killing them before they can react.”

“Sure you can pull it off?”

“Yes. I have calculated the solution percentage and it is well above ninety-seven percent,” said Callahan.

“Then I do not have to hack the computers on the vehicles?” asked Michelle.

“Actually you do,” replied Callahan. “I need a fall back. If needed, you will disable the vehicles and we will take the rest by the seat of our pants. Even if it goes as planned, it would be nice to be able to monitor their movement without having to attach a GPS device. We can follow them from the Consulate to the Triple S office.”

Michelle smiled, nodded, and said, “I’ll get back to work. Just confirm to me which teams you are using.” She paused, smacked her desktop, and said, “Charlie Team returns to my residence. Bridgette should be arriving by five or so. They know the property.”

“Does she know what is going on?” asked Callahan.

“Not yet. I will call her as soon as I finish the hack and have it up and running,” replied Michelle.

Callahan stood, nodded to his employer, turned, and departed her office.

\-------------------------

It took Michelle another thirty-two minutes to finish the program and with glee in her eyes, make it functional. For all intent and purpose, Michelle could invoke total control over the two GMC vehicles. More than satisfied, she decided it was time to make a call to Bridgette.

The phone rang three times before Bridgette answered, “This is Bridgette.”

No pleasantries were exchanged between the two women.

“How are the loves of my life?” asked Michelle

“They’re fine, Mrs. Cooper. They are having a great weekend. They miss you terribly.

“As I miss them. I have some business to take care of this evening. If all goes well, I will be home Tuesday midday. You are to arrive at the house by no later than 6:00PM today. Charlie Team will be on property. I will inform Charlie One that you are in charge. Primary function is to make sure Constance and Charles are looked after. They are to return to school. No bullshit. I am giving you permission to use anything short of corporal punishment to make them understand you are in charge in my absence.”

“Yes ma’am,” said Bridgette. “I have to ask, am I on permanent duty taking care of your children?”

“Only if you want to,” replied Michelle. “All you have to do is submit your resignation and you’ll be free of guarding Constance and Charlie. Otherwise, if I have told you once, I’ve told you multiple times, you are the individual I trust most guarding them.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m just itching to get back into the field. I miss the action.”

“Again, I will advise you when your time will come to return to operational duty.”

Michelle did not wait for a response from Bridgette. She terminated the call and against her better judgement, went to speak to Simmons.

Between her office and the basement area where Simmons was being held, Michelle stopped to speak with several of her employees. To a man, they all felt like she was more than their employer. They knew she had their best interests at heart due to their undeclared governmental operations. She always made a point of asking about themselves, their families, or their significant others. When she came upon individual men training or a team training for an operation, she always paused and watched totally taken with their courage and expertise.

Upon entering the hall where Simmons and Krauss were being held, she told the guard to open Simmons room. She stepped into the doorway to find Simmons sitting on his mattress feeling the emptiness between his legs. She waited a minute before coughing to get his attention.

Simmons came out of his fantasy, opened his eyes, and said, “Come to watch me masturbate?”

“No, Simmons. I came to have a serious conversation with you. Help me and it will add positive credits to your account,” said Michelle.

Simmons pulled his right hand from between his legs, which he kept wide open, and asked, “First, when do I get some clothing?” And, after a pause, asked, “How may I be of assistance?”

“To answer your first question, you will never wear clothing ever again. If and when you need to go out in public, you will dress ‘ _en femme’_.”

Simmons held up his hands to stop Michelle from speaking and said, “Women’s clothing? Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You’re not serious?”

“As serious as the genitals that are in a jar in my home. If you want to feel any semblance of an orgasm, you’re going to have to entice a man to willingly shove his cock up your ass. Otherwise, you’re celibate.”

Uncontrollably, a tear rolled down Simmons cheek. He sighed and without thinking put his right hand against the smooth surface of his crotch. He sat sad eyed waiting for Michelle to answer his second question.”

“I need to know if there is space on the first floor of your building where I can hide eight men. They need to become part of the building itself. Will you help me? Or, do I need to start the process of turning you into an emasculated sissy bitch for alpha niggers.”

“Why do you need to hide men?”

Michelle’s face changed in an instant. She clinched her teeth, rolled her face into a sneer, and spat, “Do not fuckin‘ ask me questions. Give me what I fuckin’ need or I will shove my hand so far up your pedophile ass I will be able to rip your heart out of your useless fuckin’ body. Are there places on the first floor where eight men can hide without being seen?”

Simmons shivered where he sat. It took him a minute to realize that if he did not destress he’d piss all over his mattress. After two minutes, he answered, “Since the entrance is like a huge atrium, it is difficult; but, not impossible to pull off.”

“What about Angelina?”

“The walls of her area are as thin as Papier-Mache, Technically, you can hide your men behind the wall on either side of her desk. I do not know what you are trying to pull off; but, they should be able to catch whomever you are trying to kill or capture by surprise.”

“Is there any area beside the main doors that men could be hidden?” asked Michelle.

“Hidden on the right as you enter the building is a utility closet. One man should be able to hide there. Otherwise, the only place would be to the left and right of Angelina’s work area.” Simmons stopped, rubbed his crotch out of stress and frustration, and then said, “Please do not hurt Angelina. She does not deserve to be hurt because of me.”

“I’m not going to promise; but, I will try my best. If she listens, nothing will happen to her.”

:”Thank you,” said Simmons.

“If everything works out, I will reward you with. . .” Michelle stopped speaking, turned, and walked out of his cell.

As she walked down the hallway, she could hear Krauss crying and moaning about everything and anything. Michelle knew the only solution to Krauss’ problem was to terminate his life.


	13. Monday – Late Afternoon, May 27, 2019 – Take Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take down of Waleed Uday Farooqui

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Copyright, Emanon_Pen™, 2020. All Rights Reserved.
> 
> The complete copyright disclaimer may be found at the start of the first chapter.

3:32PM

“Echo One to base.”

“Go for base,” replied Callahan.

“We’re staged outside. Headed inside to scope out the possibilities above and beyond what we trained.”

“Roger that,” said Callahan.

\-------------------------

4:01PM

“Echo One to base.”

“Go for base,” replied Callahan.

“Change in plans. The walls that form the office space for the receptionist will provide four excellent sniper positions – Two on each side of the front desk. The utility closet by the front door is useless. Only a midget would fit inside. There is a space on the northern wall that will allow two men to hide. Those men will take down the individual.”

“Won’t they be out in the open?” inquired Callahan.

“Somewhat,” replied Echo One, “but, that is a chance we’ll have to take. Once the three men enter the building, the two bodyguards will be taken down. The principle individual will then have four red dots on his person. Two on his forehead and two on his torso. Worst case; we’ll take out his knees.”

“Alive,” stated Callahan. “Knees are acceptable and agreed to.

“Echo Three to Echo One.”

“Go Three,” replied Echo One.

“Principle has departed his base. Will follow with updated information on their route.”

Michelle looked at Callahan and frowned.

Callahan noted her questioning look and said, “Last minute. It was agreed that one operator would monitor the consulate and provide route information. If needed, we could force the two vehicles to take our preferred route.”

“Then why did I hack their vehicles?” questioned Michelle.

“First, if we needed to, you could disable the vehicles. Second, you have the ability to track them; but, eyes on is a preferred method when working in a city like New York.”

Michelle understood Callahan’s reasoning. For a split second, she thought of the operational conversations and debates she had with her husband. Callahan was closing in on becoming like her husband. The idea of opening personal relationship with him was something she could not ponder; especially, in the middle of an operations.

“Base to Alpha One,” said Callahan.

“Alpha One here.”

“West End Avenue status?”

“Men and trucks are in place. NYPD advised of work between 71st and 72nd Streets. They took the bait and they should not pose any problems. Stationed one man at each intersection to detour traffic if needed.”

“Copy that,” said Callahan.

\--------------------

4:42PM

“Echo Three to Echo One.”

“Echo One here.”

“Traffic extremely light. Principle vehicles on 72nd Street and should be making the turn in one minute.”

“Copy that,” replied Echo One.

\-------------------------

4:43PM

The two black GMC Yukon XLs turned off of 72nd Street. They made their way down the west side of West End Avenue to the only available parking spots which happened to be in front of their destination. Both vehicles slipped easily into the open spots. The fake Consolidated Edison men aided the drivers with parking their vehicles. Once the vehicles were stopped, the men noticed that the drivers did not turn off the vehicles. They left them idling as the passenger side doors opened; because, four of Michelle’s operators took their positions behind just placed Con Edison sawhorses in the street to force the occupants to exit on the passenger sides of the vehicles.

First to exit was the two bodyguards that would stay outside the building. They took up positions on either side of the entrance to the Triple S Modeling and Talent Agency building. Once they established their position, the passenger doors of the second GMC Yukon XL opened. Both bodyguards exited and stood next to the vehicles. They scanned the sidewalk from north to south and did not think check what was happening behind them. The bodyguard that exited the rear seat of the vehicle made a small motion with his right hand to signal Farooqui it was safe for him to exit.

Waleed Uday Farooqui exited the vehicle and followed his top bodyguards to the front door. He nodded to the two men on either side before tapping the first of his two personal bodyguards on the shoulder. He opened the door, entered, scanned the interior, and then stepped aside to allow his boss to enter.

Once the doors closed, four men from Bravo Team came from each side of the two men guarding the entrance to the building. Before they could react, a member from each team sprayed their faces with a cloud of chloroform. At that same moment men from Alpha Team took down the drivers when they exited the vehicles. The eight men feigning a need to help four men who seemed in need of medical help, placed the unconscious men into the GMC vehicles. With practiced moves, they flex-cuffed them and inserted a needle into their necks giving them a dose of ketamine. They would be unconscious for the next four to six hours.

Waleed Uday Farooqui took the lead once he was in the building. His two bodyguards remained two steps behind him and a foot to each side. They were two sitting ducks for the snipers hiding on either side of Angelina. When Waleed was just past halfway into the main atrium, two Echo Team snipers ended the bodyguards’ lives. Farooqui made for the weapon that was underneath his left armpit. As his hand slipped inside his suit jacket, an Echo Team member bolted from the left side of Angelina’s office space. He was upon Farooqui before he knew what hit him. His right hand was gripped and pressed into his body. A second Echo Team member bolted from the right side of Angelina’s office space. He pressed the syringe into Farooqui’s neck and rendered him unconscious with a dose of ketamine.

The bodies of the two bodyguards were carried from the building and placed into the rear of the vehicles. Before the doors were closed, the rears of the fake Consolidated Edison trucks were opened, ramps placed, and the vehicles were driven into box portion of the trucks. It took another three minutes to lock the vehicles in place and close the rear doors. Before the ambulance arrived, the two trucks pulled out of their parking spaces and began their trek back to the warehouse.

Lights and sirens blaring, the private ambulance pulled in front of the building. Two Echo Team operatives dressed in EMT uniforms exited the ambulance pushing a gurney into Triple S’s offices. Less than five minutes later, they exited with one very unconscious Waleed Uday Farooqui. One fake EMT stayed in the back as the other got behind the wheel and pulled out into traffic. Like the two ersatz Consolidated Edison trucks, he made his way towards the warehouse in Yonkers, New York.

The entire operation from arrival of Farooqui to departure took thirty-two minutes. No police arrived at the scene. People walking on West End Avenue ignored the whole operation. Store owners were more interested in selling their goods than in trying to intervene in what could be perceived as a planned operation. When needed New Yorkers were famous for _‘minding their own fucking business’_.

\-------------------------

4:32PM

Michelle was pleased with the speed of the capturing of Waleed Uday Farooqui. She closed all of her open programs, disconnected the computer from the local server, and turned them off. She sat back in her chair and was pleasantly surprised to find she was moist between her legs. A satisfactory end to a preplanned operation always culminated in several glorious hours of unbridled sex with her husband. As she sat staring off into space, she realized that to feel the release she so desired, it would have to be instituted by a nicely sized dildo rather than her husband’s loving tongue and well-proportioned cock.

“Michelle, are you ok?” inquired Callahan.

Coming out of her sexual reverie, Michelle answered, “I’m fine. Just thinking about my husband and what he would do to the asshole Farooqui.”

“What are your plans for him?” asked Callahan. “If I am off base for asking, please tell me.”

“No, you’re fine,” said Michelle. “I am going to have to keep him at my place until the specialist arrives from _‘The Freighter’_.

Callahan frowned, “The Freighter?”

“The doors are beginning to open. The Freighter is a converted oil tanker that my husband designed to keep certain _‘unwanted persons‘ out_ of the public eye. The United States government established CIA black sites in friendly countries. It was there they used _‘enhanced interrogation’_ on the captured terrorists. And, it was there they were busted for creating the sites. Guantanamo was established to house captured terrorists long term. The Freighter is way beyond anything the CIA every thought of.”

“Should I ask for more or should I let a sleeping dog lie?”

“Let me answer your question with a question. Are you against using all forms of enhanced interrogation on individuals that are plying terrorism around the world?” Michelle paused and then added, “That includes pedophiles.”

“I am not in the school of thought that says _‘enhanced interrogation does not work’_. But, at the same time, torture is torture. Men are trained to suffer and not be broken. A good operator will give his life to protect what he believes in and that include terrorists.”

“You need to witness what we do on _‘The Freighter’_. The psychiatrist that runs the operation is a beyond being a genius. Besides knowing how to psychologically break an individual, he has the ability to create specialized psychotropic drugs that open an individual’s mind without having to resort to torture. It is an amazing interrogation to watch.”

“Jesus,” said Callahan.

Before he could answer, Michelle said, “He has nothing to do with anything that happens on _‘The Freighter’_.” Michelle paused and stretched her body where she sat before saying, “The four bodyguards that are alive are to be kept sedated at all times. Keep them in the subbasement. The two deceased ones place in the morgue. Also, remove their clothing and bring me their identification and wallets. When Farooqui arrives, place him in one of the secure cells. Strip him naked and hang him from the ceiling spread eagle. Blindfold him. Place sound cancelling headphones on his ears and pound his auditory nerves with loud bone crushing white noise. And, I’ll need his personal effects.”

“As you wish, Ms. Cooper,” said Callahan.

“Michelle stood and as she departed the conference room said, “I have to talk to Simmons and I think I am going to add more pain and humiliation to that fuckin’ loser Krauss.”

\-------------------------

Michelle opened the door to Simmons cell to find him exactly where she left him hours earlier. He was sitting on his mattress eyes closed gently stroking the bare space between his legs. Rather than be nice, Michelle screamed, “Simmons you prick!!! You lied to me!!! Angelina is fuckin’ dead because of you!!!”

Simmons eyes snapped open. His hands went to his face as he yelled. “No-o-o!!! You promised me!!!”

“Look at me, bitch!!!”

Simmons complied by moving his hands to his empty crotch and looking directly into his tormentors eyes.

“First, do not piss or shit on your mattress. You do and you will clean it up with your mouth. Second, Angelina is fine. She performed like a trooper. She asked to have a message delivered to you.”

Simmons relaxed and asked, “What did she say?”

“She told one of my men to tell you that she can’t wait to see you without your cock and balls.”

His face changed from a look of expected happiness to one of abject hatred, “You asshole. You’re fuckin’ lying to me.”

“But, of course I am lying to you about Angelina. Now, get off of your mattress, crawl over to me, and kiss my boots.”

Simmons saw the look on Michelle’s face and knew he’d better comply. He slipped off of the raised mattress onto his knees, crawled to where Michelle stood, and placed not two; but, four kisses on her boots. He did not look up when he completed his task.

Michelle used the toe of her right boot to raise Simmons head. She looked into his eyes and said, “You have earned some brownie points. The information you gave me proved to be worth its weight in gold. Waleed Uday Farooqui is now under my total control. Two of his bodyguards are deceased. The other four are alive and not going anywhere anytime soon. What would you like as a reward?”

Simmons face changed from abject fear to innocent confusion. It took him a minute to realize that there was only one answer, “Whatever you wish, Michelle.”

The kick to Simmons chest sent him flying backwards until the small brick platform stopped his motion. He actually bounced off of the wall and hit the floor with a brain crushing thud. The next thing Simmons felt was Michelle’s boot on his neck. Pressure was just enough to slow; but, not stop his ability to breathe.

“If you ever address me by my first name again, I will personally shove a M79 grenade launcher up your pedophile ass and pull the fuckin’ trigger.” She pressed hard for just a few seconds and spat, “You address me as Mistress. Understood?”

“Yes mistress,” croaked Simmons.

“I am going to offer you something special,” said Michelle, “I want you to be the individual that removes Krauss’ genitals. After you have completed the raw removal of his cock and balls, I will allow you to have them for dinner.”

“No thank you, Mistress.”

“You have no choice in the matter. If I have to perform the radical surgery, then I am going to stuff his excised cock and balls into your mouth and tape it shut. Unless, you tell me you’d rather have his small penis inserted up your pedophile faggot ass. That is something I’d love to see.”

Simmons curled into a fetal position, wrapped his arms around his knees, and said, “Please Mistress. . .”

Michelle laughed and said, “Alright bitch. For now, I will let you think about what I am going to do to you. I will put one seed into your addled brain. I am thinking about turning Angelina into a heroin addict. What would you do to stop me?”

Michelle did not wait for Simmons to gain control of his physical being and answer her. She stepped out of his cell and slammed the door shut with a loud clang.

\-------------------------

Michelle stood in front of Krauss’ door and stared through the small window into his cell. He was not sitting on his mattress. He was in the corner behind the metal toilet. He was not yelling or screaming. He was moaning, as he held his hands near his face, “She fuckin’ took my thumbs. . .” He repeated the mantra over-and-over again.

She stepped away from the door and called the solitary guard on duty over to where she stood. “I want you to open the door. Then I want you to make haste to the arms locker retrieve two razor sharp double-edged knives. Give them to me and leave the cell. Nothing you’ll hear is to be remembered or discussed.”

“Yes ma’am,” replied the Seal. He stepped to the door, opened it, and then double-timed to the medical wing.

Michelle opened the door, stepped inside, and said, “Get your fuckin cuckold ass up, now!!!”

Michael Krauss did not move. He continued repeating his mantra about losing his thumbs.

Michelle stepped over to the toilet, grabbed his feet, and pulled him from behind the toilet. She did not care that his head bounced on the floor several times before she stopped. Like Simmons, he was naked as a jay bird. The bandages that were wrapped around his hands were the only things covering any part of his body. To make him realize that he had no chance of protecting himself, Michelle knelt down, grabbed his pea sized testicles, and squeezed.

Krauss’ reaction was immediate. His eyelids flew open and his eyeballs bulged from their sockets. His bandage covered hands flew to his crotch only to be impeded by Michelle’s hand. For Krauss it was like time stood still. What he thought was several minutes was actually less than two seconds before he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Michelle held her hand around his testicles for a good two-and-a-half minutes. If a psychiatrist witnessed what she was doing to Krauss, it could only be determined to be torture. She eased her grip and watched as Krauss’ body began to relax as the pain subsided. Just as she reduced the pain level, the Seal she sent to the medical clinic returned. He saw Michelle point to the sink, nodded, and dropped the eight inch stiletto knives into the basin. Per her instructions, he departed the cell, and closed the door.

“If you are a good little boy, I will release my hold on your gonads. If you want to be an asshole, I will not be nice to you at all,” said Michelle.

Frightened beyond belief, Michael Krauss began nodding his head in agreement with not doing anything else to cause him pain.

Michelle released her hold and spat, “Stand up and keep your hands behind your back.”

Michael Krauss did as he was told. He stood and moved to a position where the back of his legs were pressed against the ledge that created his sleeping cot. He bandaged hands went to the small of his back.

Michelle turned and retrieved the two knives. She did not hide them from Krauss as she closed the distance between them.

“How willing are you to not fuckin’ moan about losing your thumbs?”

It was like he was shot out of cannon, “YOU FUCKIN’ TOOK MY THUMBS!!!”

“One last time Michael. I am giving you the opportunity to give yourself a chance at something of a normal life.”

Calmly, Michael said, “What kind of normal life can I live without thumbs.” He waited a minute before he screamed, “YOU FUCKIN’ TOOK MY THUMBS!!!”

Before Michael could close his mouth, Michelle’s right hand forced the knife into this left cheek and out of his right. She took the knife in her left hand and placed it against the auditory canal of his right ear.

It froze Michael Krauss where he stood. The image of his sister-in-law lying on the floor of living room in the Wagner’s penthouse bleeding from her sliced open cheeks caused him to involuntarily release his bladder.

“I can easily fix what has happened to your cheeks. All you have to do is accept the fact that I took your thumbs to keep your from habitually masturbating. Or, I can force the posterior facing edge into your mandibular joint effectively disconnecting your jaw from your skull. The other option is to force the knife that is resting just at the entrance to your auditory canal into your interior ear and wiggling it. I do the same to the left ear and you will be totally deaf. Which would you like me to do?”

Michael Krauss tried to speak; but, found it impossible to enunciate words. He moved his hands from behind his back and made motions that could only be interpreted as he wanted neither options to happen to him. His eyes tried to convey his acceptance of his situation. If he could speak, he would have promised to never say anything again about losing his thumbs.

“You want to tell me you’ll never utter a word about being without thumbs,” said Michelle. “I don’t fuckin’ believe you.’

While staring directly into Michael Krauss’ eyes, Michelle removed the knife from his cheeks and with a practiced hand slid it into his body below his sternum. She watched as Krauss’ eyes closed and flew open. The moment he tried to speak, Michelle pulled down on the razor sharp knife and cut through his abdominal muscles to the top of his pubic bone. His intestines were severed and began to ooze out of his body. His death would be painful and long.

Seeing him standing frozen with his intestines hanging out of his body and aware of what just happened to him. “All you had to do was keep your fuckin’ cocksucking mouth shut.” She paused and then said, “My last words to you are – die motherfucker.”

Michelle departed the cell and stopped where the shift guard was standing. “The asshole will take a few hours to die. I have disemboweled him. His life wasn’t worth shit to me. When he is finally dead, wrap him up and dispose of his body.”

Michelle did not wait for a reply. She turned and headed back to her office.


End file.
